Bizarre School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
by TheRealEvanSG
Summary: A power-granting bow and arrow, Stands, and immovable objects... And here Harry Potter thought his life was crazy enough even without being related to some dudes with stars on the backs of their necks. Being born into the bloodline of the most bizarre family on the planet, however, meant that his life was destined for insanity. He just didn't know it yet.
1. Prologue: A Mysterious Sickness

**Prologue:  
A Mysterious Sickness**

 **-1988-**

Harry Potter was not usually the type of person to wake up in the mornings grumpy and tired. Granted, his Aunt Petunia almost always woke him up screaming and rapping against the door of the cupboard under the stairs, so perhaps he'd have a better reason than most to do so. Even so, however, when it was time to rise from the welcome, soft blanket of slumber, he would make no complaints, sit up on the hard floor, brush the various spiders and other bugs off him, and crawl out of it with relative wakefulness. It was something one picked up after spending seven years living with the Dursleys: if one doesn't get up fully prepared for the long day ahead, one's workload will likely increase tenfold. Therefore, when he had a large amount of trouble even moving his legs and arms that morning, nobody was more surprised or annoyed than he was.

"WHAT'S TAKING YOU SO LONG TO GET OUT OF THAT CUPBOARD, BOY?" roared Vernon, up early for once and reclining on his favorite seat in the living room, watching the morning news. "YOUR AUNT HAS ALREADY CALLED YOU THREE TIMES! SHOW HER THE RESPECT SHE DESERVES!"

"I would," Harry called back rather painfully and in a much quieter voice, "if I could actually move myself out of there. My limbs don't seem to want to do what I'm telling them to. I feel... kind of sick."

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew that it was only a half-truth. He _did_ feel sick, but not feverish; his body felt weak and heavy, like something was attempting to squeeze the life out of him. His eyes were still a bit blurry from sleep, though, so he couldn't quite see whether Dudley had discovered some new way to prank him, or something. Straining as best he could against the exhaustion that had nothing to do from a lack of sleep, Harry struggled to his knees and tried to push open the cupboard door. It didn't budge, however, and a sense of panic started to well up in the eight year old boy. If he didn't get out of this cupboard, the Dursleys wouldn't bother to come open it for him, and he'd remain there indefinitely.

Harry's blood pulsed through his body, his heart beat increasingly rapidly, and without even fully understanding what he was doing, he slammed his fist forward into the door in a massive punch.

It flew open and the hinges screeched. Harry stared; he'd nearly punched it off its hinges.

Petunia's head stretched in from the left, and the woman with the longest neck on Privet Drive frowned in at him. "Treat our house carefully, boy, or you're cleaning it up!"

"I clean it up even if it's not _me_ treating it without care," Harry pointed out, and his aunt pompously ignored him. Petunia's head slid back out of view and she went off to whatever it was she'd been doing before, leaving Harry to blink rapidly at his fist. How _had_ he punched the door hard enough for it to nearly fly off its hinges? He'd always been scrawny and quite weak.

Harry, never one to let a random gift remain untaken, army-crawled as quickly as he could out of the cupboard, his body sweating unnaturally. He then maneuvered to the kitchen over the spotless, green-and-white floor, which he'd spent an hour sweeping it entirely clean of any dust and grime. Once there, the lightning-scarred boy reached up to grasp a handle on one of the drawers beneath the counter, and used this to pull himself up to a stand. His legs groaned at the effort of holding him up, but he didn't fall, which was nice. Harry rather liked a healthy amount of distance between his face and the floor.

This done, Harry set to work on that morning's bacon and eggs, his remarkably empty stomach rumbling at the raw ingredients as he prepared them.

Making breakfast passed without incident, although his exhaustion did not go away at all. This was strange, he thought, especially since he'd actually gotten nine hours of sleep the previous night. He should have, by all accounts, been wide awake. But his body was still sluggish, like he was trying to move it through a swamp instead of air.

It was at the end of breakfast when things really started to turn south.

Vernon hummed over the paper which Harry had retrieved after frying the bacon, examining the front page with a raised eyebrow. "Lots of mysterious deaths in Cairo," he observed, sipping his morning coffee. "Officers reported that all the blood from the victims had been drained entirely from their bodies. Weird marks on their necks, too. No idea what the cause of death is, although due to the large number of incidents as well as an increase in missing persons these past few years, they suspect foul play."

"Terrible, truly terrible," hummed Petunia, who did not sound sympathetic at all. "You know, Mrs. Johnson just down the street was telling me yesterday that it's likely someone mad at their Prime Minister. Said he's been doing an awful job, and that they should've seen this coming."

"It doesn't sound like someone mad at the Prime Minister to me," said Harry without thinking. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley all stared at him, and he desperately wished he could shrink down into his chair. "Er, ah... it sounds like... a..."

He trailed off. He'd been about to say _vampire_ , but the Dursleys would've been furious.

"Um, nothing," he finished weakly, poking at his small plate of scrambled eggs (he hadn't been allowed bacon).

"I should think so," said Vernon, with a deep frown. He tilted his coffee mug back further, paused, then slammed it back on the table. Harry jumped. "FREAK! Go get me another cup of coffee."

With a quiet, "Yes sir," Harry reached over to grab Vernon's cup. He made to stand up... but he'd barely risen at all before his knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. The mug, unfortunately, tumbled out of his hands and shattered.

Dudley's eyes widened. "You've done it now, Potter!" he said gleefully.

"BOY!" Vernon was furious. Eyes wide and dilated, he looked rather like a bull about to barrel at some poor sap who'd fallen off of its back. "YOU BROKE MY FAVORITE MUG! HOW DARE YOU!"

Cold shivers ran down Harry's spine. "I-I-I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring in horror at the shards of porcelain scattered around his face. One had nearly lodged itself in his right eye, which was now pressed against the floor, but had missed by several centimeters. "I didn't mean to. I'll clean it up..."

He tried to get to his feet, pushed against the floor with all his strength, but he wouldn't move.

"I... I feel really sick..." He moaned, his vision swimming.

"Sick... SICK!?" Vernon bellowed. In his anger, he smashed his fist against the table so hard the wood groaned and sounded like it might have cracked. "DON'T THINK SOMETHING LIKE BEING SICK IS EXCUSE FOR THIS, FREAK! GET TO YOUR FEET AND SWEEP IT UP! THEN YOU AND YOUR AUNT ARE GOING TO THE STORE RIGHT AFTER BREAKFAST, SO YOU CAN BUY ME A NEW MUG!"

"I... I can't get up... and I don't _have any money_..."

"Can't get up?" repeated Petunia, and... was that a hint of concern in her voice? "Are you sure?"

"My body won't move..."

"Don't believe his crap," Vernon spat, glaring contemptuously at the pitiful form unmoving on the floor. "He's just trying to shirk his work."

"Vernon, he's never complained about not being able to move before," Petunia pointed out. "And he said he felt sick earlier. What if there's actually something wrong? He might need to go to the hospital, and if we just let him... _you know_..." Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper, so quiet that neither Harry nor Dudley could hear, " _they'll_ know, and they won't be happy."

Vernon's face closely resembled a strawberry for several seconds. In fact, his whole body was turning a unique shade of red specific to that fruit. Just when Harry was wondering whether the pudgy man was trying to transform himself into one, Vernon sighed and growled, "Fine. You take him in for a check-up while I go to work. But we're not getting him treatment for anything more than life-threatening."

"Of course not," Petunia agreed, some small amount of relief settling in her stomach.

That day, it was discovered that Harry James Potter had come down with a mysterious, as-yet-undiscovered sickness that none of the doctors at the hospital knew how to treat. For many days and nights, he was kept under careful watch, and when the doctors asked why he was so very small and skinny for his age ("Almost like he was malnourished," several of them insisted), the Dursleys responded only that he was a very light and picky eater. Finally, though, after fifty five long days, Harry Potter woke up in his hospital bed as good as new. Better, in fact, since he'd been given enough food for a month and a half to actually function at full potential.

And none of them - doctors, Dursleys, or even Harry himself - saw the burly boy with the yellow skin and pink hair, with large muscles and white gloves covering his fists, who had been squeezing him in what amounted to a deadly tight hug for the previous month and a half, and who had mysteriously vanished on the fifty-fifth day.

- **TO BE CONTINUED** -

 **Stand:** Roundabout  
 **Stand User:** Harry Potter  
 **Ability and Stats:**?


	2. Pride and Prejudice, Part 1

**Chapter 1**  
 **Pride and Prejudice, Part 1  
**

A nervous sweat dripped down Harry Potter's pale cheeks as he waded through the sea of people that composed the train platform of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Parents, worried and happy for their kids at the same time, accidentally bumped into Harry as he pushed his cart to the train. Nerves danced about his stomach like butterflies. What if he failed to make a good impression at Hogwarts? What if he was no good at magic? It would be a return to life at the Dursleys, that was what was in store for him.

"Hey, are you gonna sneak pictures of Cho again?" the voice of a boy about a year older than him, about average height and blonde, teased his friend as they happened to move near Harry.

"Don't be stupid, man," his friend, a brown-haired boy with freckles heavily dotting his face, said, blushing. "Of _course_ I am."

They happened to bump into Harry, knocking him out of his inner worries, as well as off his feet.

"Oh, hey, sorry there..." the blond started to say. He reached out to balance the first year, hand opening to grab Harry's collar... and then out of nowhere, a yellow arm shot forward as though fired from a gun, grabbed _the blond's_ collar, and shoved him backwards. "Wh-Whoa! What the...?"

His brown haired friend raised his eyebrow as the boy stumbled backwards, eyes wide and jaw slackened. "Uhhh... dude, you okay?"

"I dunno, man, I tried to help that kid, and then it felt like something invisible p-pushed me back... Come on, l-let's get on the train..."

The two unknown boys hurried away and left Harry to topple over to the side. However, that same arm shot out from behind him again and grabbed his sides, halting him mid-fall. It then picked the dark-haired boy up and gently set him back on the platform, safe and sound. Harry swallowed, and his mouth went dry as he looked at the disembodied arm attached to the invisible person who seemed to have been haunting him lately.

"Go away," Harry said quietly, turning his gaze back to his cart. He ignored its cold breath against the back of his neck. His face was pale as he pushed his cart up to the magnificent train, scarlet and steam-powered, that lay before him, waiting to take off to its magical destination. "You're causing me too much trouble. That was mean."

The muscly ghost that he couldn't see at the moment, but which he knew was hovering in midair just behind him, said nothing, but retracted its arm and faded said limb from view.

Harry really wished it would just leave him be.

The mysterious ghost had first started haunting him about two months ago. During one of Dudley's many games of Harry Hunting, the last Potter had run across a particularly bad spot of luck and had tripped and fell, leaving his misguided cousin with more than enough time to catch up and start kicking him with his friends. It had been horrible - that summer day was hot and muggy, and the ground felt like it could burn him. Dudley's feet, as well as Piers's, slammed into his head, stomach, and sides, over and over and over, until he was quite sure his entire body was sore, and tears coated his cheeks. Then, suddenly, they were screaming, racing away from him as though they'd spotted a rattlesnake. Harry, bruised and battered, had slowly sat up, and gawked at the floating figure with the yellow skin who stood over him, its fists held out at the ready.

It was taller than Harry, though not by much, and its body seemed to have been made entirely of muscle. White armor covered much of its body: a chestplate, a helmet with two triangles rising up off the sides, leggings, boots, and gauntlets. The exposed bits of its body seemed to be covered in dented lines that perhaps were supposed to form some sort of shape, like a Mayan carving in a wall. Even with the weight that all of this would've added to it, though, the ghost appeared to be rather speedy to Harry, even though he'd never seen it before, much less seen it move. The ghost stood before him no more than three or four meters away. Harry had felt like it wanted to go further, chase Dudley and Piers; but for some reason it couldn't.

"Who... w-what are you?" he'd asked it with a trembling finger pointing at it.

It had turned and smiled at him, and a name then suddenly entered his mind: Roundabout.

From then on, it always seemed to be standing right beside him, or behind him. He could feel its presence even when he couldn't see it, although everyone else seemed both unable to see it and unaware of its existence. He'd hoped it was something to do with him being a wizard - maybe _all_ members of the magical community had these strangely colored ghosts standing beside them? But this hope had been dashed during his trip to Diagon Alley, and now here at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Although, it was strange... that redheaded boy his age with the freckles and several of his brothers had looked at him askance when he met them earlier. They hadn't even so much been looking _at_ him as they'd been looking _behind_ him.

Was it possible they'd been able to see it?

Harry quelled his hope as he stepped foot onto the Hogwarts Express and pushed his cart down along the aisle, searching for an empty carriage. Who was he kidding? No one had been able to see it so far, not even a member of the Hogwarts staff. Why would a random family of redheads know about his unwanted, ghostly companion?

Having finally found a compartment with no one already inside, Harry slid open its door and entered the peaceful space. He first carefully shoved in Hedwig, making sure that her cage wouldn't tip over and make her fall. This done, the boy wizard tried to push his trunk in, but it was no use; it was too heavy without the help of the cart, which was too wide to enter the compartment. He desperately shoved against it, but this being fruitless, he turned around, leaned into it, and tried to knock it in with his shoulder. The trunk didn't budge; he simply didn't have enough weight on him to make any sort of headway.

Someone clapped their warm hand on Harry's shoulder, and he yelped and scrambled away. He looked up at the newcomer in shock.

It was one of the redheaded twins, his freckly face split apart by a grin. "No need to be so jumpy," he said kindly. "Need help?"

"Um, I..."

"Yes it is, then," decided the twin, frowning at the trunk.

It happened so quickly Harry thought he might have dreamed it, or perhaps had simply imagined it. Something appeared behind the much taller, lankier boy, something blue and rather gorilla-like, and Harry believed he heard a deep bellow like _GURA!_ In the blink of an eye, the gorilla had swept over to his trunk, punched it, and then vanished.

Harry's trunk slid in the door easily.

He blinked, and realized the redheaded twin was standing near where his trunk had been - near enough that he'd have been able to shove it in himself.

A crushing disappointment fell over Harry; he'd simply imagined that the twin had had a ghost like his own.

"Thank you," said Harry numbly, slumping over as he staggered into the compartment. He could've gotten help, he could've found out how to get rid of Roundabout... and that chance was gone.

The twin grinned. "Don't mention it."

"Hey, George," someone shouted, and Harry leaned around in a position to see that it was the boy's other twin who had shouted. "You're missing Lee's tarantula! Come see it before he puts it away!"

"Coming, Fred!" George called back, then grinned at Harry. "I'll be seeing ya around, kid! You seem pretty cool. I hope you end up in Gryffindor; that's my House, you know!" He waved goodbye, then turned and dashed down the aisle towards his eager twin.

"Fred, George, are you there?" the voice of their mother asked, followed immediately by her coming down the aisle outside of Harry's compartment.

"Here, mother!" he heard them call, and then they all walked out of the train together.

Harry's eyes drifted out his compartment's window, through which he could just see the redhead family gathering at the edge of the platform. His mind drifted as the family teased the youngest boy, Ron, about some dirt on his nose. Harry wondered if there was anybody at all at Hogwarts who could explain to him what Roundabout was. He wanted to be rid of it. It _was_ sometimes helpful, but it overreacted, chasing away even those who might have been trying to help him. Harry had no control over what it did, even though it seemed to respond to his emotions.

Harry blinked, and realized that Fred and George's family had mostly vanished.

The slight screech of the compartment's door sliding open permeated the air, and Harry looked behind him to see Ron peering in.

"Anyone here...?" the boy started to say, then noticed Harry and deflated. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I'll, ah, just be going..."

"No, no, it's fine," Harry said quickly. He needed some company to drag him away from his worries about Roundabout and nervousness about Hogwarts. "You can sit with me."

"Really?" Ron blinked. Then an embarrassed smile spread across his face and he pushed his trunk, which wasn't quite as wide as Harry's, in the door. "Thanks. I, um, didn't really have any friends to sit with, so, um, I didn't expect anyone to want me around them so soon."

"It's no problem." Harry meant it fully. In fact, he really appreciated Ron's presence. "It's... kind of the same with me, really."

Ron kicked his trunk against the wall and plopped down in the cushioned seat across from Harry. Surprise was evident on his face. "Strange. You seem really nice. Hey, anyway, what's your -?"

Before he could finish, the compartment's doors opened again, and the twins poked their heads in. "Hey, Ron, listen, if you need us, we're gonna be in the back of the train. Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there." They said this in perfect unison.

"Right," mumbled Ron, whose suddenly pale face suggested he wasn't quite a fan of that.

The twins looked over at Harry and blinked.

"Oh, hello again," George said, grinning. "I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced, have we? I'm George -"

"And I'm Fred," Fred intoned with a jab of his thumb at himself. "The fellow over there with the dirt on his nose is Ron."

"Shut up," said Ron, blushing. He quickly rubbed his nose with the back of his arm, although he didn't quite get the dirt off.

"Harry," Harry greeted them, reaching his hand out to shake theirs. "Harry Potter."

Silence.

Oh. In all his concern about Roundabout, he'd forgotten that he was famous. Judging by the dropped jaws and stunned expressions that Fred, George, and Ron all wore, though, they certainly hadn't.

"You're... you're really him?" gulped Ron, eyes wide as though he couldn't quite believe he'd just made friends with the savior of the wizarding world. "Do you... have the... you know?" He lifted up his hand to point at his forehead.

Harry blinked, and brushed aside the locks of hair that were concealing his lightning bolt scar.

"Wicked," all three Weasleys breathed at once.

Fred and George looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Potter or Lee Jordan's tarantula?" Fred asked George with a knowing glimmer in his eye.

"Are you kidding?" George gasped, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Why, of course the obvious answer is..."

"Tarantula!" they chorused. "See you around, Harry, Ron!"

The twins ducked out of the compartment and slid the door shut behind them. As they made their way to the back of the train, wide grins plastered across their faces. Ron shook his head, flabbergasted.

"I will never understand their priorities," he said with a shudder.

That earned an interested blink from Harry. "You don't like spiders?" He'd never minded the fuzzy critters himself. Sure, a lot of them looked gross, but when one shared the same sleeping space as them for nearly ten years, one came to an understanding that spiders weren't exactly evil and would really just leave you alone so long as they were left alone, too.

A terrible shiver ran up Ron's entire body. "Merlin's underpants, no!" he yelped, eyes wide and frightened. "Those things are terrifying!" His ears tinged pink. "Ah, my brothers once Transfigured my... my teddy bear into a giant spider while I was holding it, and, uh, I've always hated them since that."

Oh. Well, Harry could understand that. Having something you cared for suddenly become huge, many-eyed, and eight-legged as a kid would be rather traumatic.

"So, are all of your family wizards, then?" Harry asked.

Ron scowled. "Yeah. Far as I'm aware. I think Mom's second cousin is an accountant, though, but we never talk about him."

"So... ah... do wizards know anything about ghosts?"

"Um..." Ron's brow furrowed. "Fred and George say that Hogwarts full of them, and that they're all warm and comfortable when they pass through you. You can't really take anything they say with a grain of Floo powder, though. Ghosts are real, that much I know for certain. Why?'

Relief flooded through Harry. "I think one's been haunting me for the past couple of months."

Ron's eyes shot open. "Do you think it's... your parents?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Harry hadn't thought about that. He wasn't sure how he'd feel if Roundabout _was_ his mom or his dad. "I don't know. But I get the feeling it wants to be called Roundabout."

"Can you show me?"

"Well..." The boy wizard's eyes cast down to the ground, uncertain. "Okay, but don't be surprised if you can't see it. No one has, yet."

While they were talking, the train's engine picked up and started to carry them down along the tracks. Parents outside ran along the platform as quickly as possible in vain efforts to keep up with their kid's compartment. Tears and whooping and loudly shouted goodbyes followed the Hogwarts Express as it whizzed off outside the station and away from the families' views.

Harry, however, was not focused on this, and instead put his mind to willing his unwanted ghost to appear.

Surprisingly, it did so the moment the request had left his mind. There the armor-covered person with yellow skin stood, almost blocking the much smaller and thinner Harry from view with all of its muscle.

"That's **[Roundabout]** ," Harry said, staring out the window and not expecting much.

Ron stared agape. "Oh my Merlin! You have one too? I thought my brothers, Ginny and I were the only ones!"

"Huh?"

It was Harry's turn to stare agape this time as he turned back to his new friend, who now had something similar to Harry's ghost sitting beside him. Ron's ghost was smaller than Roundabout by about a head, and was more lanky than muscly. Actually, it looked rather physically weak compared to Roundabout, Harry thought, though it also seemed to be able to move much faster. Ron's ghost was entirely green, except for its hair, which was the same color of red as the boy's hair. Its face was squarish, and its legs were thickly toned, much more so than the rest of it. Its eyes were like an animal's; all black and yellow.

"HURA!" said his ghost, crossing its legs in a figure eight, flashing a horizontal peace sign with its right hand over its right eye, and snapping its fingers with its other hand.

Ron patted its arm, grinning at Harry's shock. "This here is **[Two Towers]**. He's been hanging out around me since like, three months ago, I think." He blinked. "Come to think of it, Two Towers has been by my side since my family and I went school shopping at Diagon Alley. We met Quirrell, then, too - our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Did you see him? What a weird guy."

Harry had seen him. "Yeah, he looked really nervous, didn't he?"

"Yeah. Not really how I pictured a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher acting, you know?"

The door slid open and there was a cute little jingle. Harry and Ron looked at it to see a short old woman pushing a cart that was topped with all sorts of candies and sweets. "Anything off the cart, dears?" she asked sweetly.

Harry, who had went without breakfast that morning, tried to hide the rumbling of his stomach as he said that yes, he would definitely like some. Ron's ears turned pink, however, and he politely declined with reasoning that he'd brought sandwiches and wouldn't have room for anything else. This was something that Harry found absolutely unbelievable (who didn't have room for candy?), and so bought treats for both himself and a greatly astonished Ron. Not sure what to take, he ended up buying a little bit of everything. This earned him a stare from Ron as he left the corridor and returned to their compartment, a small mountain of sweets in his arms.

"You're going to eat all that?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded, grinning. "I've never had this much money before in my life, much less this much candy. I'm not going to waste anything. You can have some if you want, though, I bought enough for both of us."

Ron's eyes flitted down to his sandwich. He frowned at it. "Mum put corned beef in it _again,_ " he complained, like this was a common occurrence.

"I'll trade you a chocolate frog for that," said Harry through a mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty.

The redhead's stomach rumbled. "Deal."

Roundabout tossed the aforementioned delectable to Two Towers, who caught it easily and handed it over to Ron.

The two friends had a grand time trying out all of Harry's sweets. Harry greatly enjoyed Mrs. Weasley's sandwich, it filling his need for food nicely. They shared a couple boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and had several good laughs at their own bad luck in flavors. They also chowed through Harry's collection of Chocolate Frogs, which thankfully turned out to not be actual frogs at all, but rather like the wizard version of a chocolate Easter bunny. Ron seemed amused that his new friend had at first thought they'd be real. Harry was feeling quite silly with himself for thinking this until he unwrapped the wizard card that lay within his Chocolate Frog, read the description of his catch (Dumbledore) on the back, then turned it over to find that the aforementioned Headmaster had vanished from the face of the card.

"Oh... OH NO!" Harry yelped, examining the card for any signs of having gotten a spill on it or something else that may have caused the disappearance of the image of Dumbledore.

Ron jumped. "What is it?"

"He's gone! Dumbledore... he's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron reasonably, relaxing as he looked at his own card. He deflated. "Dang it, I got Morgana... I have six of her... Here, you can have her if you want. Start your collection, you know?"

Harry couldn't believe it. "You're, uh... you're, uh... you're, uh, not surprised by this?"

"Of course not." Ron looked at him like he was crazy. "What, do Muggle pictures not move around at all or something?" He laughed at this idea, though this ceased at once upon Harry's confirmation.

"Um, yeah, actually..."

"You're kidding." Ron blinked, then shrugged. "Weird. Oh well, here, is this one Agrippa?" He unwrapped a card eagerly, took one look at it, and tossed it aside. "No, dang it, it's Flamel..."

They had now left the open country far behind them, the view out the window revealing a sea of trees and the occasional river. Rolling hills flew by, dark green and shadowing the forests, and Harry imagined all sorts of magical creatures must live there. He didn't pay much attention to the scenery, however, and instead opted to continue opening all the different candies with Ron. Meanwhile, Roundabout and Two Towers were having a grand old time trying to put each other into headlocks and such.

"So, what exactly do you think **[Roundabout]** and **[Twin Towers]** are?" asked Harry while they tried out some of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

Ron shrugged, blew a bubble, and popped it. "No idea," he admitted as he brushed the bits of blowing gum now stuck to his lips back into his mouth. "They seem to be unaffected by anything except their own kind, though they can affect everything else. Not even magic seems to work on them. Mum was flinging around some cleaning spells in a tizzy a couple weeks ago before some company arrived, and one looked like it was going to hit **[Two Towers]** right in the eye by accident. The spell just passed right through him, however, and hit the wall behind him."

"They're not affected by magic?" Harry looked askance at Roundabout, who simply shrugged and shook its head. "Weird."

"Yeah, I know, right?" Ron nodded, looking just as flabbergasted as Harry felt, but then he grinned and leaned forward. "They seem to grant cool powers, too, though. Like, here, I'll show you. Try and punch me."

Harry was flummoxed. "Punch you!?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Anywhere you want."

Reluctantly, Harry stood up, cautiously walked up to Ron, and drew his fist back. At that moment, however, the door opened, causing Harry to yelp and lower his fist. The friends looked at the compartment door, where a nervous-looking fellow, short and stout, stood twiddling his thumbs. Harry recognized him from the platform; he'd been crying about a lost toad.

"Have any of you seen a big, green toad?" the kid asked nervously. Harry and Ron both shook their heads, and the poor little guy wailed, "He's been missing since the platform... Oh, Gran is going to _kill_ me..."

"He'll turn up," Harry reassured him. He felt bad for the poor boy; Harry would feel miserable if Hedwig disappeared.

"Yeah..." The toad-less boy didn't sound very confident. "Well, let me know if you see him..."

He left the compartment and closed the door behind him.

Harry and Ron blinked at each other.

"Anyway," said Ron, eager to show off whatever power he believed Two Towers granted him, "come on, punch me!"

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, nervously. "I could always just, you know, throw something at you. Like a Pumpkin Pasty, or a Chocolate Frog card, or a... or a... or a..."

Ron scoffed. "Stop worrying, I'll be fine. Now just try and hit me!"

"Okay," Harry agreed uncertainly, and again brought his arm back up for a punch. He started to swing it forward -

The compartment door slid open again. It was the toad-less boy again, but this time he had a companion: a girl whose bushy hair cascaded around her Hogwarts robes like a brown waterfall. She opened her mouth to scold Harry and Ron, which revealed some rather remarkable buck teeth.

"Fighting already, are we?" the girl scolded furiously, waggling her finger at them. "We're not even off the train yet!"

"We're not fighting!" Ron assured her. "I'm showing him my ghost's powers."

"Ghost?" Hermione frowned and looked around the compartment. Her eyes completely missed Roundabout and Two Towers. "I don't see any ghosts. If you're not fighting, and there's no ghosts, then are you actually trying to do wandless magic? Well, let's see it, then." The boy beside her fidgeted awkwardly; he seemed to be much more interested in finding his lost toad.

"Geez, I didn't want an audience," grumbled Ron. He turned back to Harry. "Oh, well, just get on with it."

Swallowing, Harry finally flung a wild haymaker at Ron's face. He was certain that he was on the right path, and Harry was actually quite fast for not having taken any karate lessons; but moments before Harry's fist connected with Ron's head, his friend ducked, and the punch soared over him. Harry, not expecting the lack of resistance, stumbled a moment with the momentum. Then he regained his balance.

"Come on, have another go!" Ron egged him on.

"You sure?"

"Positive!"

Harry frowned, then punched out with his left fist this time. Ron leaned to the side just in time to avoid it, grinning widely and beckoning for him to continue. Feeling a little frustrated now, Harry decided to toss a flurry of punches at the redhead. Ron simply dodged them all, without even moving from his spot. Harry, at last exhausted of this, relaxed his arms, panting.

"So, what, you just took martial arts?" asked Hermione, unimpressed.

"No," Ron said. He looked like a kid who'd won a prize at the fair. "It's my ghost's power - I can predict people's movements a couple steps ahead of them. Both me and the person whose moves I'm trying to predict have to be looking at each other, though. It really helps out in chess!"

"Really," Hermione said flatly. She didn't seem to believe him. "Well, anyway, have either of you seen Neville's toad?"

"He already asked us, and no, we still haven't." Ron scowled, unhappy with the fact that she seemed to have completely ignored his power.

"Well, please return it to Neville here if you do find it," she said. "Anyway, you two shouldn't fight anymore. It would give you both a bad reputation with the teachers, and that wouldn't be very nice to have before even your first day of school, would it? I mean, I know _I_ certainly would want to be in all the professors' good graces, since I come from a long line of normal, non-wizard people, of course, and it really made my day when I got my letter and found out I had magic, and my name's Hermione Granger, what's yours?"

All of this was said very fast, almost in a single breath. Harry figured her talking needed grammar lessons. He looked at Ron, and found small comfort in the knowledge that he seemed just as flummoxed by her as he was.

"Ron Weasley," said Ron, blinking.

Harry rubbed the back of his head. "Harry Potter."

Hermione immediately started off on some long spiel about how _of course_ she knew all about _him_ , and that she'd read every book she could about wizarding history, and that he'd appeared in a large majority of them. A consideration of the pros and cons of being Sorted into the four different Houses then issued forth from her, which Harry was barely able to follow, and before either Harry or Ron were quite able to tell it, Hermione and Neville were both gone.

"...That happened," Ron said, staring out the still-open door at her wake.

Harry nodded numbly. "...Uh... I suppose."

"Anyway, what power does your ghost give you?"

"Um... I don't know. I didn't even know that they _had_ powers to give until just now."

"Hm..." Ron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, we should try and find a way to discover what it is. How do you think we could do so? I reckon maybe if we tried to get our ghosts to fight, we might come up with a way..." And he was off, talking about the different possible methods for which they could realize Roundabout's power. He was just explaining an elaborate plan to get Dumbledore to see them, when the door opened once more, only this time it was neither Neville nor Hermione. Instead, it was the pale-faced boy whom Harry had met while getting his school robes. He also had two friends beside him, both of whom were rather large and heavy-set. Harry wasn't sure why, but the boy's companions looked very mean and not at all friendly.

"Who are you?" chorused Harry and Ron.

"Malfoy," said the boy, sticking out his hand. Harry didn't shake it. "Draco Malfoy. And you're Harry Potter, aren't you? That is true, isn't it? Everyone's been muttering up and down the train about Harry Potter being in this car."

"Um, yes, that's right," said Harry. "That's him, er, me."

"What's a Malfoy doing in our compartment?" Ron asked with a testy frown.

"I came to make sure Harry here doesn't fall in with the wrong sort." Malfoy's eyes fell distastefully on Harry's new friend. "Oh, speak of the devil: a _Weasley_. My dad told me they all have red hair and more freckles than sand in the ocean. He also said they're poorer than dirt and are always grabbing at any money they can get. Looks like he was right on both counts." Ron ground his teeth in annoyance, and Harry agreed; this kid seemed very arrogant. "Anyway, beside me are Crabbe and Goyle. Pleased to meet you, Potter."

"Hahaha!" laughed Crabbe. "More freckles than sand in the ocean. Good one."

"Quiet, you," Malfoy said, frowning at him. "If you're going to laugh, at least do so when I actually make the joke?"

"Sorry," Crabbe said in shame.

"Whatever." Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned back to Harry. "Anyway, Potter, what do you say? Want to hang with the boys and I? We could use a great mind like you in Slytherin."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I think I can sort out the bad lot for myself, thank you very much. Like, say, those who make fun of others for how they live."

Draco's eye twitched. "Gah... you're gonna regret that, Potter," he spat furiously. He cracked his knuckles. His left arm rose up and curled around the right side of his face, the fingers splaying out, while his right arm curved under its brother. " **[Pride and Prejudice]**!"

Harry was just about to ask, _Isn't that a really boring novel?_ , when all of a sudden, behind Malfoy, a large shape - black, liquidy, and flowing like a shadow - loomed over the entire compartment. It was nearly twice Malfoy's size, both height and weight-wise, and it seemed to not have a solid form. Roundabout and Two Towers, who had since retreated and vanished before Malfoy's entry, sprung back to existence and made to punch Pride and Prejudice... but it broke apart in two and ducked under both ghosts' feet. It didn't walk so much as it glided across the floor, and before either Harry or Ron could make a terrified escape, it swept over both of them.

Harry's face burned where the shadowy, ink-like ghost touched him. It hurt, it hurt, it was smothering him, it was covering his whole body, he was scared...

And then, just three seconds later, Pride and Prejudice retreated.

Harry could breathe again. He took in long, grateful gasps of cool air as Malfoy's laughter filled the compartment.

"Hahaha! I didn't know you two had these, two, but it doesn't even matter!" Malfoy crowed, doubling over in his laughter. Crabbe and Goyle blinked at each other, looked at Harry and Ron, blinked at each other again, and slowly followed suit. "I mean, look at you two! Hahahaha!"

"Wha's he talkin' 'bout?" slurred Ron groggily, shaking his head clear.

Harry, wiping terrified tears from his eyes before anyone could notice them, looked up to respond... and froze.

Where Ron had been sitting before was now an old man, horribly old, back-broken, thin-legged and grey-haired. He gaped in shock; what had just happened? Was this some strange spell, or was it that ghost's power? Was that even Ron?

Maybe-Ron looked up at Harry, and his jaw dropped. "OHHHHHH NOOOOOOO!" he yelped through a toothless mouth, pointing a trembling finger at Harry. His eyes nearly popped out of his head in his fright. "Look at you! You're not even you anymore!"

 _What!?  
_  
Quickly, Harry's head swiveled to his reflection in the compartment window. Staring back at him was not the scraggly black hair, nor the emerald green eyes he was used to; neither was there those many-times-over broken glasses with the tape in the middle. Instead, looking back at him with wide eyes, a slackened jaw, and a pale face was the picture of a storybook pirate - warty, an eye-patch on his left eye, brown, dirty hair, calloused hands, and one or two teeth missing, as well as several more replaced with golden ones.

" _AAAAAAAARRRGH!_ " he cried, scooting away from his reflection in shock. Panic overtook him - he couldn't get into Hogwarts looking like this! He'd be the laughing stock of the whole school!

Their reactions did nothing to bring Malfoy to his senses. If anything, they only made him double up in laughter even harder. "Oh, yes, that's priceless!" he drawled gleefully, wiping tears from his eyes. "Once again, the power of my **[Pride and Prejudice]** , my _Stand_ , is stronger than anything else!"

Old Man Ron's hands wrung through his hair desperately. "HOOOOOLYYY MERLIIIN! WE NEED TO FIND A WAY TO DEFEAT HIS **[PRIDE AND PREJUDICE]** OR I'M NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO FACE MY FAMILY AGAIN! **[TWO TOWERS]**!"

The green-skinned ghost - had Malfoy called them Stands? - rushed forward at Pride and Prejudice with remarkable speed, nearly in the blink of an eye, and tossed a punch at it with a shout of, "HURA!"... or at least, at where its head would've been had it had a body. It tried to jerk away, but Ron smirked and shifted his Stand's fist over to meet its path, solidifying the connection. But the punch seemed meaningless. Malfoy's head jerked back a hair, and his laughter paused, but other than that, no effect arose from it.

"Tch," Malfoy spat, frowning. "You really think you can make a dent in **[Pride and Prejudice]** with a Stand as weak as that? You wouldn't even be able to squash an ant with that thing! USELESS! You thought you could beat me, but instead, it was I, Draco, who beat you!"

Pride and Prejudice swung a devastating uppercut into Two Towers's chin, sending it reeling back. Ron coughed blood and he, too, was lifted off his seat. Harry's panicked eyes swiveled over to him in realization. So, when these ghosts, these _Stands,_ got hurt, their owners did, too?

This was going to be a lot tougher than it seemed.

How did one defeat a liquidy shadow that could change people's bodies?

Roundabout stepped over to him, and cracked its knuckles. Pirate Harry looked at it through narrowed eyes... and for the first time realized he could see its breath. What? How come he could see his Stand's breath when the air in the compartment was room temperature? Harry's gaze drifted down to his feet, and he gasped softly at what he saw: the carpet where it stood was slowly coating over with frost.

Frost?

Malfoy, once again laughing, turned to walk out of the compartment. "Crabbe, Goyle, let's leave these losers! Our payback for their insult has been accomplished! Besides, the school nurse can always fix them up later."

"You're wrong."

The blond boy halted midstep, then slowly turned around, glaring at the offending speaker. "Potter? You think I'm wrong? What about?"

"You're not the strongest," growled Harry, glaring at this boy. Malfoy reminded Harry too much of Dudley, of Piers, of all the boys who thought they were able to pick on others just because they were in a better place than who they were bullying. He _hated_ that. He'd stood for it once, stood for it when it had been only him they were picking on... but now it had went too far. Now these bullies were picking on his friends. He leveled an even glare at Malfoy that actually made the blond back up a step. "You're not the strongest, and you're wrong about one other thing, too...

" _Our_ payback for this insult has not been accomplished."

He opened his left hand and spread his fingers wide, covering the majority of his face with it. He held his other arm out to the side, curving down to the ground as he glared at the pompous bully considering him cautiously.

Harry knew what he had to do. It was like a pull in his gut, an instinct he'd never known he'd had until that moment.

" **[Roundabout]**."

And with this calling, Roundabout immediately turned on a dime to face Pride and Prejudice. The other Stand, its body flowing up and down on itself like a strange river of ink, glared at it with yellow eyes, then arched its back and stretched up so tall that it had to bend over to not hit its head against the compartment's ceiling.

Then Roundabout rushed forward across the compartment, drew back its fist and slammed a punch forward, ice coiling off its knuckles.

 _"ORAAA!"_

- **TO BE CONTINUED** -

 **Stand:** Two Towers  
 **Stand User:** Ron Weasley  
 **Ability:** Grants user foresight into enemy movements up to two steps ahead, though both Stand User and opponent must be looking at each other in some way for the foresight to be gained.  
 **Stats:**

Destructive Power: E  
Speed: A  
Precision: A  
Range: C  
Durability: C  
Developmental Potential: B

 **Stand:** Roundabout  
 **Stand User:** Harry Potter  
 **Ability:** Covers that which it touches in layers of frost and ice, though it does not actually turn an entire object into ice.  
 **Stats:**

Destructive Power: A  
Speed: B  
Precision: D  
Range: B  
Durability: B  
Developmental Potential: A


	3. Pride and Prejudice, Part 2

**Chapter 2  
Pride and Prejudice, Part 2**

In the split second that Draco Malfoy had before Roundabout's fist plunged into the black, inky shadow of his Stand, three thoughts flashed through his brain. First, that Harry's Stand was about as strong as his own. Second, the realization that Roundabout's power was to freeze things that it touched, for miniature ice crystals - so small that they could only be seen thanks to the reflections of brilliant light that glanced off them - fell through the air, and the only things these could have been were the actual air molecules themselves. Third, that unless he acted _now_ , he was well and truly fucked up.

Draco smirked.

 _I may have figured out Roundabout's power thanks to it unintentionally freezing the air around it,_ Draco chuckled in his mind, _but Harry still is not aware of_ _ **[Pride and Prejudice]**_ _'s power, and that will be his downfall!  
_  
"ORAAA!" Roundabout bellowed, and its fist barreled forward at Pride and Prejudice's upper half, where the shadow formed the vague shape of a head, with yellow eyes glaring out. The eyes closed, the yellow cutting off completely and leaving in its place one entirely black, flowing blob.

As Roundabout's fist started to connect and spread ice over Pride and Prejudice's head, Harry frowned. Why was the Stand undulating like it was swallowing something... or, perhaps, pushing something down through itself?

Ice covered where Pride and Prejudice's head would've been had it had a normal body. Shaking off the strangeness of the Stand's movements, Harry smirked and pulled back Roundabout's fist for another punch. "I figured out your Stand's power!" he declared, pointing directly at Malfoy. " **[Pride and Prejudice]** is actually a black, liquid-like substance that can mold the bodies of those it touches into whatever it pleases! I figured it out when both **[Roundabout]** and **[Two Towers]** rushed at your Stand, but it split in two and slid beneath ours, then covered us in itself separately. You thought that since your Stand is a liquid, that it would be untouchable. However, my Roundabout can cover things in ice, and now that **[Pride and Prejudice]** 's head is frozen through thanks to my Stand..."

Roundabout let loose a wild "ORAAAA!" and punched forward rapidly, its fists moving so quickly that Malfoy's eyes could only see afterimages of them. His Stand, though, was able to catch the movements of every one, following them easily. Stands, among other things, were able to closely follow the movements of even things that flashed by at the speed of sound. Ice cracked and shattered. Splinters of the dark, frozen ink sprinkled the ground around Pride and Prejudice's feet.

"...It is in a form that I can touch!" exclaimed Harry, pumping his own fist victoriously into the air.

Ron, shaking off the vicious uppercut dealt to him earlier, blearily looked at Malfoy. "Huh...? You did it?"

"Yes!" Harry folded his arms, glaring at Draco. "I did."

"Weird... I still look like an old man, and you still look like a pirate..."

"Huh?" Harry blinked, and glanced down. It was true. His body was still that of a pirate's; shouldn't defeating Pride and Prejudice have returned his and Ron's bodies to normal? Confusion swept over him. How were they still like this?

Low chuckling drew his attention up to Malfoy again. The blond wizard was looking at the ground, one palm over his face as his chest shook with laughter. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle were slow on the upstart, but started laughing at Harry, too. Goyle threw a light-hearted punch at Crabbe's shoulder in his mirth, causing Crabbe to wince.

"Ouch. That hurt."

Goyle looked abashed. "Sorry."

"What's so funny?" Harry, one who hated being left out of important information, asked, frowning. "Why are you laughing?"

Draco looked back up at him, and the mirth in his eyes made Harry take a step back. "You really don't see, Potter?" crowed Malfoy, shaking his head as though he couldn't quite believe it. "Don't you know that whatever injuries a Stand obtains, the Stand user also suffers? So, answer me this... if my **[Pride and Prejudice]** 's head has just been shattered into a million pieces... why hasn't mine done the same?"

What?

Harry reeled back. He hadn't thought about that. By all rights, Malfoy should be dead by now - but he wasn't. He was still standing. Honestly, Harry had never even considered this when he'd frozen Pride and Prejudice and then punched its head to smithereens. So, why was Draco fine, and why weren't he and Ron back to normal yet?

Suddenly, the realization struck him like a wooden stake through a vampire's heart.

"You've realized it, haven't you, Potter!?" Draco drawled, throwing his arms forward. "The reason I am perfectly fine, even though by all rights, my head should resemble a dog's chew toy right now, is that my Stand is not that black ink! Instead, my Stand..."

Right before Harry's shocked eyes, Pride and Prejudice promptly flooded into movement, flowing down between Roundabout's legs. Both he and Ron gasped, and he tried to force Roundabout to leap away... but there was no time. Just as quickly as it had first moved, Pride and Prejudice rose back up to its "feet" and turned around, then formed a limb that stretched out of its body and slammed into Roundabout's back. Harry's Stand choked and crumpled forward, blood spouting from its mouth from the sheer force driven behind the punch. So, too, did pain shoot through Harry's spine. The Boy Who Lived stumbled forward, biting back a scream of pain, and nearly fell over; but he regained his balance as the momentary pain passed. Luckily, his Stand was durable, and despite Pride and Prejudice's power, a single punch from it felt somewhat akin to merely stubbing your foot.

"...Exists _within_ the ink!" declared Malfoy. "It forms and freely controls the ink, and the ink is what changes peoples' bodies! The ink also acts as a shield!"

Pride and Prejudice's ink split in two, clear down the middle, and with no small amount of shock, Harry saw that the actual Stand was floating within the center of the sludge. It was small, maybe only a few feet tall, and rather ball-like. Two stubby legs kicked in the sludge, and Harry realized that it was "treading water," so to speak - keeping itself afloat within the ink, but with just enough timing that it stayed concealed in it. Its body was a pale tan, its eyes squinty with a bushy unibrow above them like a bird in flight. Its nose was uniquely triangular, and its arms, unlike its legs, were thick and muscular, though also rather short. A tail with a large barb on it, with a minuscule hole at the tip, flicked behind it. Harry supposed this was what secreted the ink, like a spider's ink sac.

Ron's eyes widened. "Wh-What? That's the true **[Pride and Prejudice]**? But how is it surviving without breathing in all that sludge? Unless... the sludge doesn't actually restrict it from breathing, like a fish can breathe underwater..."

"EEEEXAAAACTLY!" exclaimed Malfoy, crossing his arms, and resting his right foot against his left leg, his knee bent out to the side. The sludge closed back in upon itself, and the strange undulation happened again. "Potter! You cannot defeat my **[Pride and Prejudice]** because you need to solidfy the ink surrounding it first, then shatter it... but if you can't tell where it is, then you won't be able to do that!"

"Is that so?" Harry readjusted his eyepatch with his pointer and third finger. "Well, then, let's see about that."

"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!"

Faster than the human eye could follow (though not a Stand's), Roundabout turned on a dime and rushed a flurry of punches into Pride and Prejudice's midsection, where the actual Stand itself had just been. Ice spread across the ink upon Roundabout's touch, and then when it was all frozen over, the punches shattered it. When this was done, Pride and Prejudice's ink was left in two parts: one half which was now falling through the air, and the part of its lower section that had remained untouched.

Harry glared. "I didn't feel your **[Pride and Prejudice]** in that area, so that means that it must have moved to one of these two parts!"

A bead of sweat rolled down Malfoy's neck, and his hands clenched into slightly trembling fists. "Think you can tell where my Stand is going to be if you break the ink into different, separated parts, do you, Potter?" he guessed, slamming his foot down on the train compartment floor. "It's no use! You'll never be able to catch **[Pride and Prejudice]**!"

"Are you both fighting?"

Harry, Ron, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle froze and slowly turned to the aisle. Hermione Granger stood there with her hands on her hips and a very stern glare on her face. "I _told_ you before, Harry and Ronald, that fighting is only going to get you in trouble with the teachers! You can't..." Then her brain seemed to pick up with her vision, because as she frowned past Malfoy and his cronies at the two transformed boys, she suddenly blinked in confusion. "Wait, what? I thought Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were in this compartment. How come a pirate and an old man are here instead? Strange... I must have forgotten which compartment." She hesitated. "It seems strange that Hogwarts would let such folk come into the school, but perhaps they're going to be helping with the lessons in some way - that's it, isn't it, you two? You're going to be helping the teachers, like as volunteers or something? Strange, but I'm sure Headmaster Dumbledore will have a reason for this. See you in classes, then!"

And just like that, Hermione was gone, without even giving Harry or Ron a chance to answer her or ask for her to get help.

"...That girl talks a lot," Draco mumbled. "I feel rather dizzy from all that..."

"I know the feeling," Ron muttered. Then he shot straight up, despite his bad old man back. "Wait, no! I did not just agree with a Malfoy! ...Hey, wait, why aren't I in a lot of pain from this position?"

"Huh?" Harry glanced at Ron. Indeed, even though he was still in his crooked old man body, Ron seemed to be sitting straight just fine. That was strange. And wait, now that he thought about it, despite the fact that Draco's Stand had given him an eyepatch instead of glasses, his sight through his right eye was still absolute crap, while he could just see a speck of light flowing under the edge of the eyepatch over his left. The only real reason he was able to see everything perfectly was because he was looking through Roundabout, and he hadn't even quite been aware of this.

So that was the true ability of Malfoy's Stand, then - to only change the form of the outer layer of a person, but not their whole self? If it was the latter, then Ron shouldn't have been able to move fine like he was, and Harry should only be blind in his left eye, not have crappy vision in both.

Harry suddenly felt much less angry.

Still, though, he needed his original body back, lest he look like a fool in front of everyone upon entering the school.

"Wait, one thing's still bothering me," Ron said, pointing at Malfoy and his goonies. "Why didn't Hermione see you three? From the way she was talking, it sounded like she was only able to see us."

Roundabout's gaze fell back on Pride and Prejudice's two parts... er... one part? With a start, Harry realized that he could only see the lower half of the Stand that had remained after he'd shattered the midsection to ice splinters. The upper half, the part that had been falling through the air, was now nowhere to be seen.

"What!?" Harry stood agape. "It's... it's gone! The upper half is gone!"

Malfoy chuckled and turned back to the duo, shaking his head. "And this, Potter, is why you will never be able to beat me! Because I, Draco, have spent years toying with my Stand's powers! I'll admit that I haven't yet discovered them all, or learned properly how to fully use all of them, but I have come up with enough backup plans for if my originals don't work that it doesn't even matter! Everything you could do is useless, useless, useless! Because my **[Pride and Prejudice]**... is now camouflaged!"

Camouflaged?

Harry narrowed his eyes in realization. So that answered Ron's question, and the question of how Hermione had only seen him and Ron. While Harry was distracted, Malfoy had used his Stand to turn the ink into the same colors and design as the rest of the compartment, meaning that it was totally concealed from view. At the same time, he'd quickly called it back to himself and then covered him, Crabbe, and Goyle in it, turning them momentarily camouflaged as well. He must have dropped the power upon Hermione's leaving.

"And now," Malfoy said, turning his back to Harry and Ron, "you're finished. I didn't want to do this at first, but you shattered the top of my Stand's ink with the full intention of smashing its head to pieces, so I don't feel particularly bad about this."

 _"KIA KIA KIA KIA KIA!"  
_  
Pain flared in Harry's body as invisible punches rained upon Roundabout from all over. Pride and Prejudice moved so quickly that it was impossible for Harry, as inexperienced in this as he was, to tell where they were coming from. His body shook and reered back and forth and side to side; alone, Pride and Prejudice's arms, muscled as they were, were too small to pack much power, but when they continuously hit Roundabout, they were starting to break through his high durability. Not by much, but just enough that Harry was really starting to feel like he was getting beat up.

"HARRY!" shouted Ron, eyes wide in a panic. "OHHHH NOOOO! You can't lose! I'm sorry... I've been useless this fight, because Malfoy didn't look at me once, so I couldn't predict his attacks, but... please! Don't lose! I don't want to be an old man for the Sorting!"

Don't lose... don't lose...

That was easy for Ron to say. But how was Harry supposed to fight an invisible enemy, having learned no magic - which would be useless anyway, considering Stands could not be touched by any spells?

Roundabout convulsed and shuddered in pain as Pride and Prejudice's fists stormed down, its shadow flicking back and forth in time with the Stand...

Its shadow...

Its shadow?

A burst of hope erupted in Harry's chest. If Roundabout had a shadow, that surely must mean...!

Ron perked up. What was that fire lighting in his friend's eyes? A victorious flare of confidence? Had Harry...?

"Good grief," said Harry Potter flatly, again readjusting his eyepatch and frowning at Malfoy even as his body shook and trembled with the force of Pride and Prejudice's flurry. "You really are quite sneaky, are you? You tricked me into thinking that if **[Pride and Prejudice]** was camouflaged, I wouldn't be able to see it at all. But, see, you said that it was _camouflaged_... which means it still has a physical form that is blocking light. And everything that blocks light creates a shadow. Now, I wasn't able to see the shadow of your Stand before, because I wasn't paying attention to the ground. But if I look with **[Roundabout]**..."

Draco's eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder in a panic. _Shadow!? Crap, I didn't think about that!  
_  
Roundabout's eyes flicked down past its yellow skin, closely examining the ground, looking for any signs of movement. And there! For just a split second, so fast that it almost wasn't visible, a black shadow of ink - the upper half of the original flow of ink - showed its shadow! And it was just enough time for Roundabout to act. It quickly turned as the shadow circled it, then paused and went back the other direction. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. From the height that the punches were hitting him from... Considering the length of the ink arm that had formed before... Then, Draco's stand must be...!

 _"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!"  
_  
Quick as lightning, Roundabout's fists shot forward, and they connected with something invisible and distinctly liquid-like. The ink! Allowing himself a smirk, Harry let the ice spread across the ink, and felt through the ice where Pride and Prejudice's real body was. The camouflaged ice shattered with the next punch, and Ron let out a whoop as Pride and Prejudice suddenly blinked into view. It wasn't actually able to turn itself invisible - just the ink that it secreted and swam in! Panic crossed both Pride and Prejudice's and Draco's faces as, like a bear catching a fish, Roundabout swiped its enemy out of the air even as it tried to retreat back to its user.

"Now, then, I believe I mentioned something about payback for your insult not being accomplished?" Harry asked, grinning savagely.

Draco shivered. "C-Crabbe! Goyle! Do... something!"

But out of the old man's pocket, Ron's pet rat, Scabbers, leaped through the air and bit Crabbe on the nose, frightening the two huge boys so badly that they danced about trying to brush him off of Crabbe... to no avail.

The youngest Weasley boy let out an appropriately shocked (and pleased) whoop. "What!? Go, Scabbers! Bite it off!"

Harry laughed. "Hey, Ron, how do you suppose I should pay back [ **Pride and Prejudice]** 's changing us to look like this?"

His friend considered this for a moment, even as Draco took several fearful steps backwards, his attempts to call his Stand back vain. "I dunno," Ron said thoughtfully, a wide grin covering his face, "but how about...?"

And suddenly, with unnatural agility for an old man such as him, Ron leaped to his feet and ran over to Roundabout. He then shot his hands out and, laughing maniacally, tickled its sides mercilessly. Upon Harry's questioning look (that definitely wasn't trying to hold back uproarious laughter at the sight of both Pride and Prejudice and Draco suddenly breaking into uncontrollable giggles), he explained simply, "I have a younger sister. The knowledge of how to win tickle wars is practically a part of the job description."

"Fair enough," Harry conceded. The pain from his enemy Stand's punches was already receding, though he did feel a bit stiff now, like he'd went on a bit too hard of a run.

"H-Hey!" Draco wheezed in between laughter. He desperately tried not to fall to the floor, but only succeeded in falling to his knees and supporting himself with his hands. Tears of mirth welled up in his eyes. "Hey! S-S-Stop! Please! W-W-When Dad h-hears about this, I'll...!"

"Tell him you lost to a Potter and a Weasley?" Ron finished for him, not pausing in the slightest. "Go right ahead! I'd love to hear the end of that story."

True fear glinted in Draco's eyes now as he realized that he couldn't run to his father this time - not if he didn't want the man to be severely disappointed in his performance. "O-O-Okay! I won't t-tell Dad! I w-won't tell anyone! B-B-But ple... ple-hease! Hahaha! Stop! Hahahaha! Tickling **[Pride** \- BWAHAHAA! - **and Prejudice]**!"

Ron's eyes connected with Harry's, and an unspoken agreement passed between them. He turned back to Malfoy. "Hmmm... okay. As long as you change our bodies back."

"Really?" Malfoy gasped in relief.

 _"Noooo~!"  
_  
And Malfoy's panicked wheezing, along with the very comical cries of terror from Crabbe and Goyle as they continued to try and force Scabbers off of Crabbe's nose without ripping the latter right off, would become some of Harry's favorite sounds for a long time to date.

Much later, the Hogwarts Express was finally coming to a stop, and Harry and Ron, back in their original bodies, had changed into their wardrobes.

"What do you suppose we should do with this lot?" asked Ron, jabbing his thumb at Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were all passed out, twitching on the floor. Tickling-induced tears were still drying on Malfoy's cheeks, and Crabbe's and Goyle's faces were covered in various rat claw-induced cuts.

Harry shrugged, no longer really caring about any of the three boys. "Good grief. I'm sure someone will find them sooner or later. Just leave them. It's their own fault for being stupid enough to pick a fight with us, anyway."

Ron grinned. "I can live with that."

And together, they stepped out of the compartment and joined the other students who were walking down the aisle off the train, the wind coming into the train from the now-open doors blowing their cloaks back.

- **TO BE CONTINUED-**

 **Stand:** Pride and Prejudice  
 **Stand User:** Draco Malfoy (Utterly Defeated)  
 **Ability:** Secretes a black ink from its tail, which it can then control at user's will and use to change the appearance of anything else as to the owner's desires.  
 **Stats:**

Destructive Power: D  
Speed: A+  
Precision: A  
Range: A  
Durability: D  
Potential: C


	4. The Voice and the Arrow

**Chapter 3  
The Voice and the Arrow**

Hermione Granger was always the type of person who liked to look at things and discover all the information that she could about them. The previous night, she'd had loads of fun trying to determine where a first year student was going to end up based on how they walked up to the Sorting Hat, how they sweated once they put it on, and how they'd interacted with fellow students during the train ride and the boat ride to Hogwarts. She wasn't quite sure when this had all started for her. The first time she'd noticed what she was doing, though, had been at about five years old. Several circumstances existed in Hermione's life that it could be attributed to - perhaps it was because her parents were dentists, and while she'd naturally gained their higher intelligence and eye for detail, it had manifested in her differently than it had in them. Perhaps it was due to her early discovery of a deep love for Sherlock Holmes books, and a childhood wish to be a detective.

Or perhaps it was because of the bizarre, ghostly presence she'd always thought that she could sense out of the corner of her eye, but which was never actually there when she turned her head.

Hermione always thought that it seemed like something was standing beside her at all times, though she'd never once seen anything that might suggest her paranoia to be factually based. When she'd seen those strange people on the Hogwarts Express yesterday, however - when she'd seen that old man and the pirate - she'd thought she could almost sense the same kind of presence in their compartment. Hermione had been unable to actually see anything besides the to weirdos, but the back of her neck had tingled.

As she lay in her dorm in Gryffindor tower, the night after her tiring first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione just couldn't shake the feeling that something bizarre and dangerous was happening in the castle-like school.

But what should she do about it?

Something bizarre... something dangerous... something that she couldn't see, no matter how much Hermione felt certain there was something there...

Hermione quickly stood up and kicked her bed covers off of her. It wasn't too late yet that students weren't asked to stay in bed, lest House Points be docked from their House's hourglass and they be given detention. And for something on this caliber of strange, Hermione knew just the person to talk to and find out what might be going on.

"Guuuh, Hermione?" Lavender Brown twisted around in her four-poster. She sent Hermione a bleary, questioning look. "Where 'r' you going?"

"To Professor Quirrel," she replied, slipping on her school robes and shoes. "I have a question about the Dark Arts I want to ask him."

"Studying this late? Urgh, it makes me sick jus' thinking about it..."

Hermione frowned at her dorm-mate. She was clearly a rather lazy girl, and while she valued sleep, she didn't actually get very much of it. The trashy books peeking out of Lavender's trunk, as well as the black circles under her eyes, pointed towards the latter, while her performance in today's classes suggested the former.

"Be that as it may, I'll be back before curfew," Hermione said, deciding to ignore Lavender. "Goodbye."

"G'bye," Lavender mumbled groggily, pulling one of her trashy novels out from her trunk, rolling around, and opening it to a bookmarked page. As she went to leave, Hermione scoffed in disgust at the book's title. Seriously, _Semidark_? And what was with that picture of the glorified vampire on the cover? Could literature possibly get any stupider than that?

(Yes, it could, as Hermione would unfortunately find out nearly twenty years later, with the release of a certain grey erotica novel that absolutely horrified her to no end.)

Hermione was distracted from thoughts about terrible books about vampire love as she stepped out into the Gryffindor common room, where Ron Weasley - that redheaded boy with the freckles - seemed to currently be kicking Harry Potter's butt in a game of chess. Poor Harry seemed very frustrated with the outcome of the game thus far; his face glistened in the common room's firelight with sweat, and his finger tapped against the side of the table they played on. Hermione strode past the friends without offering them a second glance, and pushed through the painting out to the hallway. She rapidly descended the staircase of Gryffindor Tower, cautious to hop over the trapped stairs which had been discussed in _Hogwarts: a History._ Neville Longbottom was spotted with his foot sunk clear into one of the stairs, and Hermione spared a minute or two to pull him out.

After many grateful thank you's stammered to her, Hermione left the clumsy boy behind and continued on her path to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It took her just a short while to reach said classroom; Hermione had already memorized the majority of the castle's layout, having spent every minute of free time between classes exploring the main corridors and halls. Thus, even though it was her first day at Hogwarts, and even with the moving staircases messing with her, Hermione was able to make it to the DADA room in record time.

Upon nearing Quirrel's room, that strange, garlic smell grew stronger and stronger. Hermione wrinkled her nose as she approached the closed door. Was it her imagination, or did the smell seem stronger somehow than it had earlier, when she'd visited him that morning? It was rather like when someone with smelly feet made the unfortunate decision to take their socks off.

Hermione's hand was just about to grab the door handle when, nearly on the edge of her hearing, she only just caught a raspy voice filtering through the door.

 _"...the arrow... allies in our efforts to... Potter and revive me... unicorn blood..."  
_  
Hermione's heart thumped. That didn't sound like Quirrel, or any of the teachers. And something about it... something about it made her adrenaline pump, her sweat glands work overtime, her skin to erupt in goosebumps...

Frightened for Quirrel's safety, Hermione's hand closed around the doorknob, and she quickly pulled it open. Quirrel's room was dark, but in the flickering light from the torches that lined the corridors, Hermione could just make out Quirrel behind his desk. The strange thing was that his turban was fully off, and he seemed to be rather bald. And in his hand was...

A wooden arrow with a metal tip?

"Professor, is there someone in the room?" Hermione asked, her eyes darting about in an attempt to search through the darkness. "Outside, I could've sworn I heard... But it doesn't look like anyone's here except you and me..." Her gaze shifted back towards Quirrel. His normally fearful countenance, weak and trembling, was strangely hardened. She almost could've sworn he was angry, what with the way his eyes were narrowed like that, and... his hands, resting on his desk, were... clutching into fists...? Hermione took a step back. "P-Professor?"

 _"Yes..."_ that mysterious voice rasped again, and Hermione jumped. She swiveled around, searching for the source, but she couldn't find anything. Where was it coming from. What was going on? _"She'll do nicely..."_

"Do you hear that?" Hermione yelped. Her skin was crawling, and she felt a rising desire to run out of the room as far away as she could. "Professor, did you...?"

"W-w-w-when you enter s-s-somebody's r-r-r-room," Professor Quirrel stammered, though somehow the stammer didn't sound quite sincere, "it is p-p-p-polite to kn-kn-kn-knock, w-w-wouldn't you agree?"

"Er... ah..."

Before Hermione could make a proper response, it appeared to her that the strange arrow in Professor Quirrel's hand shifted in her direction. She gaped at it. Was the arrow magic? That seemed the most logical solution. But, then, why was Quirrel making it point at her? What was he doing?

" **[B-B-B-Blinding Knife].** "

Quite suddenly, the light spilling into the dark classroom from the hallway seemed to grow brighter and brighter, until it was nearly blinding. A bright red spell shot through the blinding light, striking the wise witch in her forehead, and she yelped. She lifted her hand up to rub at it... and why was there something attached to her skin!? It felt strangely squishy, like a large bump. Then Hermione felt something stab her between her chest, and all of her senses disappeared completely. All except that feeling of something behind her, which instead of disappearing, only grew stronger and stronger and stronger.

Finally, Hermione swayed on her feet and collapsed backward. She knew nothing except blackness.

The blinding light dimmed to normal, and Quirrel stepped out from around his desk. He strode casually across the cold floor of his classroom to Hermione, who lay twitching on the floor, and yanked the arrow from her chest. The hole caused by it closed almost immediately.

"I hope you're satisfied, my Dark Lord," said Quirrel, studying the arrow, which remained unstained by blood. "Let's pray that the girl has a suitable Stand power. After all, all wizards have the potential for Stands... their Stands are simply normally suppressed by their magic, but the arrow can draw them out."

 _"Indeed. You have performed well, servant. Now, we need to wait for the magic bud to activate, and for her to once again meet Harry Potter... Then, our plans will be put into motion, and no one will be any the wiser..."_

- **TO BE CONTINUED** -

 **Stand:** Blinding Knife  
 **Stand User:** Professor Quirrel  
 **Ability and Stats:**?


	5. Final Problem, Part 1

**Chapter 4  
Final Problem, Part 1  
**

It was late at night on Harry Potter's second day at Hogwarts, and something terrible was happening.

"Checkmate," Ron said with a crooked grin, moving his queen two spaces in front of Harry's king.

Harry's eyes bugged out of his head as he examined the board, looking for any possible way to block or dodge out of the check. Of course, there were none. Ron had already (very rudely, in Harry's opinion) stolen each and every one of Harry's pieces, including the pawn which he had somehow managed to switch out for an extra queen five moves ago. The black-haired hero desperately wrung his hands through his hair, feeling the cold sweat that had arisen since the start of this most recent match. They'd been playing chess pretty much non-stop all evening instead of doing their homework; seriously, who would actually do homework on the first day of school? At this time of night, Harry and Ron were the only ones who remained in the actual Gryffindor common room and who had not retreated to their dorms for sleep.

"There's nothing I can do," Harry moaned at last, seeing no possible movements for his only piece left - the black king. They'd even alternated colors during their various games, Ron sometimes taking white and Harry sometimes playing black, and vice versa; but no matter what they'd done, Harry had remained unable to beat Ron. The redhead was just too good at this. Sighing, Harry offered his new and only friend a grin, and stuck his hand out. "Good game."

"Good game," agreed Ron, accepting Harry's hand. "You're getting better. You took out both my rooks _and_ knights this round."

"Such an improvement," Harry griped.

"Hey, it's alright. You just need to think outside the box more. You seem to be going for more of a direct style. While that's sometimes good for the beginning of the game to whittle away the opponent's pieces, if you're not focused on defense, you might find that you unintentionally put your queen in a bad place. That's never a good thing in chess. The queen's the most versatile of all the pieces, after all, so keeping your queen safe with some backup pieces is always a good idea."

Harry hummed and raised his eyebrow. "Wow. A lot more thinking goes into chess than I'd expected."

Ron started rearranging his white pieces to their original positions. "Of course. That's pretty much all chess is - studying your opponent, trying to predict how they're going to move based on their gameplay and how others you've played have moved." He paused to stretch out his back and yawned. "It was based on real war, if you didn't know. Actually, though, if you think about it..." Ron frowned and tilted his head. "That Stand fight with Malfoy was kind of like a chess game itself."

"Really?" Harry thought about it, then nodded and said, "Alright, yeah, I can see where you're coming from. Malfoy and I had to study each other and guess what our powers were, as well as how we'd use them."

"Speaking of Stands," said Ron as he placed the last rook in its spot and started on his pawns, "do you think there are other Stand users besides us here at Hogwarts?"

The Boy Who Lived froze. He hadn't considered that. The fact that there might be more people with dangerous powers like Roundabout in Hogwarts, or even around the rest of the world, was something he'd never even considered before. It was a rather terrifying concept, too. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and set to work resetting his side of the board, too, reaching across the table to take his black pieces from where they sat uselessly in front of Ron.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, readjusting his glasses with his pointer and third finger. "I think it would be rather arrogant of us to assume that, besides Draco of course, we're the only ones."

Ron gulped. "Hopefully they're not all jerks like Draco."

"Yeah, that would be bad news for us," Harry agreed, yawning. He cracked his knuckles. "Anyway, you want to get started on another game?"

"Sure, once your side is all done. You want to be black or white this time?"

"Um... I'll go black again. I seemed to do better last round, so maybe it's lucky for me."

Ron chuckled. "First is the worst, second is the best, eh?" As Harry grinned and reached for his queen, Ron blinked as another thought occurred to him. "Hey, by the way, where do you think Hermione was off to at this time of night? It seemed kinda weird that she'd go out of the common room and hasn't come back yet."

Harry shrugged and set his queen back. "Don't know. Could be anything, really. She was alone, though, so she definitely wasn't going to the bathroom. Alright, there we go, all the pieces are set."

Ron snorted in laughter. "Pawn to D4."

"Pawn to E5," Harry countered, moving the appropriate pawn two spaces forward. Movement behind Ron suddenly caught Harry's eye, and he blinked curiously as he leaned to the side to see past his friend's shoulder. The painting was swinging open, more torchlight from the hall dancing quickly through and spilling across the floor and walls. Hermione stepped through the now-open entrance, her eyes and forehead shadowed by her long hair. "Oh, hey, Hermione. We were just wondering where you went."

The resident redhead looked over his shoulder curiously. "Wassup, Hermione?" he said through a slight yawn.

Hermione didn't answer either of them. Instead, she continued walking directly forward in a perfectly straight line. Harry's confused eyes caught how her feet didn't even stray so much as an inch to the left or right as they swung. Her arms weren't moving, either, despite the fact that she had no pockets to hold them in and was not resting them against her sides. Harry frowned and looked up, trying to look her in the eyes to speak directly to her - maintaining proper eye contact was only the polite thing to do, after all - and immediately slapped his hand up to his lightning scar, hissing in pain. Visions of flashing green lightning passed before his eyes, and in a panic, he shook them away. A cold sweat crept down the back of his neck.

Ron blinked and swiveled his head to look at Harry in concern. "You alright, Harry?" he asked, leaning forward.

Harry bit his lip and rubbed his scar painfully. "I-I dunno. For some reason, when I looked right at Hermione just now, my scar throbbed and, and... I think I started to see the night when my parents died."

" _What!?_ " Ron's eyes widened and he looked back towards Hermione. "I don't feel or see anything like that." Raising his voice, he asked, "Hermione, what are you doing?"

Hermione was slowly approaching them now, her hands clenching into fists. "Ronald Weasley. Harry Potter."

"Um..." Harry's friend again turned around to exchange a flabbergasted look with him from across the chess board, mouthing, _What's this girl's problem?_ Then he looked back at their fellow first-year. "Yeah, we're them. Like we said on the the train, I'm Ron, and he's Harry. You alright? You sound kinda strange. Got a cold? Ya need us to take you to Madam Pomfrey?"

"You do not matter."

"Uh... Wha...?"

But before Ron could fully voice his slightly insulted confusion, a large, misty fist formed around Hermione's arm, purple and menacing. The outline of a much larger person than the buck-toothed girl appeared around her, as purple as its fist, and stepped out of her, rushing so fast across the common room floor that Harry and Ron could hardly follow it. They both stood up quickly, Harry's chair accidentally getting knocked over in the process and falling to the floor with a clatter.

 **"[Roundabout]**!" Harry shouted, eyes wide, as the menacing ghost - which must surely be another Stand, he thought - swept across the floor. He had just enough time to form his yellow-skinned Stand. However, he could not react in time to stop Hermione's before its fist slammed forward directly into Ron's face. The poor guy was sent flying back, coughing blood and knocking over their table and chess board. The black and white pieces scattered all across the scarlet and yellow carpet as Harry yelped and sidestepped away from a collision course with the flying Weasley. Ron slammed into the wall behind Harry, and the stones around him cracked with the impact. Blood streamed down from the redhead's forehead as he crumpled forward and collapsed to the floor.

Harry whirled around to stare in shock at his unmoving friend. "R-RON!" He quickly turned back to Hermione, eyes blazing. "You... You... HOW COULD YOU!?"

"He was unimportant to the Dark Lord," Hermione said softly, and her head tilted jaggedly up to stare directly into Harry's gaze.

He had just a fraction of a moment to register the fact that the girl's eyes were pure grey, like storm clouds at the edge of a hurricane, before his forehead had the vastly unwelcome sensation of being split in two by a sledgehammer. He howled in agony and clutched his lightning scar in desperation, hoping for any relief from this terrible pain. Green lightning blared in his inner eyes, and a terrible laughter, more evil and cruel than anything he'd ever heard before, rose to the edge of his vision.

"GAHHH!" Harry howled, backing up, and he happened to trip over one of the extended legs of his upended chair. He fell backwards, and the striking of his head against the floor brought him back to his senses. When he could see properly, he realized Hermione was frowning at Roundabout, whose fists were prepared at the ready for any necessary attacks.

"So, you have a Stand, too," Hermione said, frowning. "The Dark Lord will be pleased to know someone who could've gotten in his way will have been eliminated." She looked down at the trembling Harry. "You're afraid," she said simply, a strange grin spreading up her lips. "I can see it in the way you sweat, in the way you slowly back up across the floor. You're biting your lip. Your fear and confusion are welling inside you."

A rush of anger flowed through Harry's blood. He quickly stood up, glaring at Hermione even as his lower lip trembled. "What's it to you!?" Harry roared, pointing at Hermione. "I'm not afraid, I'm _furious_! You just knocked out my best friend with your Stand for no reason! Why are you talking about the Dark Lord, anyway?"

"The Dark Lord is everywhere," Hermione murmured. Her head tilted to the side, her neck cracking sickeningly with the motion. Harry winced. "The Dark Lord wishes to know all. The Dark Lord wishes to eliminate everyone in his path. The Dark Lord wishes you dead, Harry Potter."

Harry's hands clenched into fists and his gaze hardened. "You're talking like Voldemort is alive and like you're working for him."

"I know not of these things," Hermione answered steely. "The Dark Lord does not wish me to. All I know is that you, Harry Potter, must die. **[Final Problem]**."

Harry's eyes flashed to Hermione's Stand, Final Problem. The Stand was medium-sized, standing somewhat taller than Hermione herself but not by much. It looked incredibly muscly, like a purple body builder, and its head was strangely box-like. Its eyes, like Hermione's were a stormy grey, and it was built akin to a wooden doll, the kind that you would expect to find attached to strings and sticks. The flowing, black hair of a rock star washed down its back.

"Allow me to let you in on piece of information before you leave this world for the next," Hermione said, her creepy grin widening so she looked even creepier. "Even though you have a Stand of your own, Harry Potter, you won't even be able to fight back."

Harry took a step back and readjusted his glasses with his pointer and third fingers. " **[Roundabout]**!" he shouted as Hermione's stand rushed across the floor at him. Roundabout stamped furiously on the ground, then kicked forward. Ice spread onto the scarlet and yellow lion carpet, heading in a straight line towards Final Problem. It was only able to reach several meters before stopping, but it was just enough. Final Problem, not expecting the move, barreled straight onward, only for its foot to slip on Roundabout's ice. This action threw its balance completely off-kelter, and it toppled backwards. Its momentum carried it forward upon the flat of its back, and despite the situation, the extremely disgruntled expression that now composed Final Problem's countenance was enough to make Harry have to bite his tongue to stop himself from giggling.

"I thought you said I wouldn't be able to fight back?" Harry taunted as Hermione also found herself tumbling backwards. A grin spread across his face. He knelt down to one knee so he was more at Hermione's level, bent his other knee, and rested both palms on it. "You're wrong. You're the one who won't be able to fight back."

"ORA! ORA ORA ORA!"

Roundabout's fists blurred as they powered forth, striking Final Problem's feet and legs with punches of greatly reduced strength. Ice coated them and spread around to their undersides, effectively pinning the enemy Stand to the carpet. Its Stand user tried to pick herself up, but found herself invisibly frozen to the floot as well. Harry silently thanked Ron for his chess tip earlier: that early defense was often better than or at least just as necessary as early offense. Then he stood back up at full height and pointed down at Hermione. "Now then! You just chill out there for now. I'm getting McGonagall."

Harry started to head off to McGonagall's quarters, but just then, a low, raspy laugh issued from Hermione's throat. He frowned and turned back to her. She was still pinned down by the ice around Final Problem's feet and legs, but her chest heaved with mirth.

"Not bad," Hermione allowed him, chuckling wickedly. She looked like a madwomen, her forehead covered in the shadows of her hair and all. "Not bad, Harry Potter! Not bad indeed! But you are confident in your victory; the firmness of your stride, the relaxed fists at your side, and the fact that your Stand is starting to fade away and retreat are evidence enough of that. Don't you know, Harry Potter?" Hermione's grey eyes gleamed with malice, and such a menacing aura exuded from her that Harry imagined he could see sound effects of it floating around her. "It is when your opponent is most confident of their victory that they are the most vulnerable!"

Behind his glasses, Harry narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about...?"

 _"DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY!"  
_  
And that was when Harry felt invisible fists slam into his legs. He shouted in pain, his knees giving out and causing him to collapse to the ground. He felt his brain swim in agony, his bones creak and his muscles groan. In shock, he swiveled around even as he started to fall forward, and saw Final Problem extending its fists forward to just reach Roundabout even as it faded to Harry's side.

How...? How had it...?

"W-What!? I-Impossible..." Harry groaned. He was barely keeping himself from falling completely to the ground. His hands pressed down at the floor below him, keeping pressure off his knees so that they didn't hurt anymore. Tears built up in his eyes. How had Hermione's Stand reached Roundabout? It had fallen and been frozen in such a way that it would've had to twist around to hit his Stand, but the ice should've prevented that from happening. So how...? How!? Harry's brain felt fuzzy and dumb, like his mind was a Technicolor photo and it had been drained to black and white.

He couldn't think of what Final Problem's power was, or how it had managed to hit him, and it was making him furious. He felt like an idiot!

"I bet right now you're thinking that you feel like an idiot," Hermione, still pinned to the floor, taunted him. "I can see how angry you are at yourself in your eyes. I can tell how confused you are by your trembling arms. But! There is no need to worry."

 _"DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY!"_ shouted Final Problem as its fists rushed at the ice coating its legs and completely shattered it. It stood up, looming over the kneeling Harry and Roundabout, its grey eyes intimidating enough to freeze a buffalo in its tracks.

"Because the Dark Lord is merciful, and grants you the privledge to no longer be confused," Hermione explained, standing up as well. Her forehead still shadowed, her eyes stormy and dark, she pointed at Harry. " **[Final Problem]**. Eliminate him."

 _How should I defend?_ Harry wondered, sweat running down his face. He bit his lip and readjusted his glasses with his pointer and third finger. _I can't... I can't think of a way out! I don't understand this! I don't understand why I feel like such an idiot! I don't know how to fight back! Help!  
_  
Roundabout uselessly curled up in fear as Final Problem stomped forward, its footsteps echoing like the beats of drums in Hades' fearsome, mighty court. Final Problem drew back its malice-enthused fists, smirking madly at the trembling Roundabout.

Something moved. Perhaps it was a rock displaced by the cracking of the wall, perhaps it was the fire, but something caught Hermione's attention. Her eyes fell upon the still-comatose body of Ron Weasley. His head, bent to the side, stared without seeing at his and Hermione's reflection in a slowly growing pool of blood around him. Hermione studied this for a moment, then shrugged and returned her gaze to Harry.

Final Problem's fists smashed forth towards Roundabout, who remained unable to fight back. _"DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY!"  
_  
Blood splattered the ground.

- **TO BE CONTINUED** -

 **Stand:** Final Problem  
 **Stand User:** Hermione Granger  
 **Ability:**?  
 **Stats:**

Destructive Power: B+  
Speed: A  
Precision: B  
Range: D  
Durability: B+  
Potential: A


	6. Final Problem, Part 2

_Author's Note : Due to a reader's question about where the Stand names come from, I will now be including what all the Stands are named for after their name in their Stand pages. As a side note on this subject, most of the Stands will be named after books, since the _Harry Potter _series was originally a book series. The only one (for now, at least) that will keep the musical reference format of Stands from Part 4 onward will be Harry's himself, whose Stand is named after Roundabout by Yes._

 **Chapter 5:**

 **Final Problem, Part 2** **  
**

Blood splattered the ground. Hermione Granger's eyes widened, and she stumbled backward, howling and shaking her fists, whose knuckles oozed with red, liquid life. Trembling on the floor, Harry looked up, confused. What had saved him? He hadn't been able to even think of how to block her attacks. Something was keeping him from achieving the higher thinking required to make those plans. Then his eyes fell upon the green, ghostly figure standing protectively between Roundabout and Final Problem, its scarlet hair flowing upwards dangerously.

" **[Two Towers]**!" gasped Harry. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide. "But how-? Ron should be..." His head turned to where Ron had been punched to, and they nearly popped out of his head when he saw his friend standing up perfectly fine. Ron's forehead was bleeding rather profusely, but it wasn't actually that bad. Harry's jaw dropped, and half-confunded, half-relieved little choking noises issued from his throat.

"You..." Hermione's arms shook with equal parts rage and pain. "You suffered a direct punch from **[Final Problem]**! You should be dead, or at least unconscious!"

Ron stiffly cracked his back before glaring at Hermione. "That's where you're wrong. I had a split second to react, and in that time, I summoned **[Two Towers]** out to take the punch for me. It was still powerful enough to send us both flying back, but he didn't actually get hurt from it. Before either of you could notice, I recalled him, then sent him just centimeters behind me to protect me from the impact of hitting the wall. Luckily for me, **[Two Towers]** seems to be pretty hardy. Then when it looked like you were in trouble, I had **[Two Towers]** jump between **[Roundabout]** and **[Final Problem]** so you'd be alright."

"But why did you pretend to be dead?" Harry asked, staring.

"Isn't it obvious? For just in case something like this happened. And in any case..." Ron grinned darkly, arched back, stuck his back hand in his pocket and pointed a finger gun at Hermione with his front hand. "I, Ron Weasley, have discovered the ability of your Stand!"

"What!?" Harry gasped.

 _"WHAT!?"_ Hermione shrieked, livid. "That's impossible!"

"If you think so," Ron replied evenly, curling his finger gun into a fist and holding it like a karate-do at Hermione, "then just try to use it on me."

Several seconds passed in which nothing happened except for Hermione continually growing more obviously frustrated. Her cheeks were reddening, her stormy glare looked like it could freeze the Mojave Desert, and she looked like she was standing on the epicenter of a perpetual earthquake. At last, Hermione froze as though an idea had struck her, and she covered her palm with her face, laughing hysterically. She sounded like a madwoman, and both Harry and Ron gritted their teeth rather nervously, though Ron less so.

"I see it," Hermione cackled like... well, a witch. "I see it now! Your confident stance, your bragging... that's all evidence of a bluff! You just want me to _think_ **[Final Problem]** 's power has been discovered so that I will get angry and mess up." Then, in a move that seemed like it definitely should have been impossible for the human body to achieve, without loads of practice at the very least, Hermione bent backwards - far, far backwards, so far that she actually curved underneath herself. Her hair fell over her head crazily as she smirked madly at the stupefied Harry and Ron from between her own legs like a contortionist.

Her arms reached between her legs to point at Ron. "Know this, Ron Weasley!" Like before, she was so intimidating, Harry imagined he could see menacing sound effects floating around her. "Just like your friend, Harry Potter, you will be unable to even fight back against me!"

Harry gaped. "She's insane!"

"She's a loony is what she is," agreed Ron, his face darkening. "But something seems odd about her. I... I dunno why, but this doesn't seem like... well, her. Remember how she was on the train?"

Harry tried to think back, but shook his head. "Sorry, I seem to be having trouble thinking right now. I won't really be much use here."

"That's alright," Ron said as Final Problem, facing Two Towers, reared back for a brutal punch. "I know exactly what she's planning, anyway."

 _"DUMMY!"_ Final Problem bellowed, its fist powering forward directly at Two Tower's nose with impressive speed. Ron, however, rolled his eyes, and Two Towers simply leaned to the side. One purple fist whizzed past one green head with enough force to create a small blast of wind. Hermione grunted in annoyance and made Final Problem send out several more punches at various locations on Two Tower's armored body. _"DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY!"  
_  
"Don't you get it yet?" Ron sighed, clicking his tongue disappointedly and shaking his head. He still maintained even eye contact with his growling opponent. "I know every move you're going to make before you make them. That's **[Two Tower]** 's Stand power - enemy movement prediction."

"Is that so?" Hermione narrowed her eyes, studying Ron for several minutes. Then she grinned savagely. "You haven't blinked once since I started attacking you."

"So?" Ron prompted, frowning.

"You also got hit by my first punch, when I hadn't been using my Stand's power because I'd thought that you weren't a threat."

Ron looked a little nervous now. "And...?"

"That means that your Stand power has a limit, doesn't it?" Hermione crowed, her crazy smile growing even more wider and crazier when a bead of sweat trickled down Ron's cheek. "YES! I knew it! That bead of sweat on your cheek, the slightly rising pitch in your voice - I'm completely right! And I know your limit, too! Your limit is that you and your opponent must be looking at each other in order for your Stand power to work!"

"Hogwash," Ron said immediately, then flinched; he'd said that suspiciously quickly, and through gritted teeth at that. A clear lie.

Hermione's eyes widened with insane glee. She unfurled herself to a normal standing, then slowly, teasingly, turned her head so that her eyes were facing to the left and a little behind her - in other words, so that Ron couldn't possibly maintain eye contact with her.

"I win," Hermione said, cackling.

Then, even though Two Towers had been dodging and sidestepping all of Final Problem's attacks up to this point with the ease of a professional black belt, Final Problem threw two punches which Two Towers was forced to duck under, and then kicked it savagely in the chest. Two Towers was lifted up off the ground and flung back a foot or two before planting itself firmly on the carpet and sliding to a stop. It frowned at its square-headed enemy Stand, but the power didn't work between Stands; it only worked between physical people.

"Tch." Ron picked himself off the floor, having lost his balance after his Stand got kicked. "You think you've won? I still know your power. And even though your **[Final Problem]** is admittedly quite fast, I won't allow you to use it on me. Your power... is the ability to lower the intelligence of anything you strike with your Stand's fists!"

"Lower the..." Harry's eyes opened large in realization. "That's why I can't think of any plans!"

Hermione flinched. "Well... well, even if you know that, it doesn't matter!" she growled, stepping forward, locks of her hair dangling around her forehead. "For my Stand power has no weaknesses, no limits!" But for the first time since she'd entered the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron could see the center of it - and what they saw shocked them. Something jutted out of it, pink and long, rather like a skin tag but fleshy, thicker and textured. Harry's scar flared in pain the moment his eyes fell upon it and he howled, scrambling backwards and squeezing his eyes shut. Roundabout vanished in response to his sudden break in concentration.

Ron's gaze burrowed into the bizarre, fleshy-looking skin tag. "What the... what in the name of Merlin's saggy underpants is that?"

"The Dark Lord..." Hermione's glare was bitingly cold. "I WILL ELIMINATE YOU BOTH IN THE NAME OF THE DARK LORD! **[FINAL PROBLEM]** , DEBUFF RUSH!"

 _"DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY!"_ roared Final Problem. It suddenly lunged at Two Towers, its fists flashing through the air in a ridiculously fast flurry of punches that Two Towers only narrowly blocked and dodged. One after the other, punch after punch; it seemed like the lightning fast blurs of purple arms and fists would never end. Two Towers was fast enough to keep up with Hermione's Stand, luckily, but it was starting to fall behind. Without the aided buff of being able to know Hermione's plans, Ron couldn't tell where the next attack would come from, and Two Towers moved purely on reaction time.

 _Not good..._ Ron clenched his fists as Two Towers continued to rapidly block and dodge, each time the space between doing so and getting punched growing marginally narrower and narrower. _I can't keep this up for much longer! She's unpredictable when she's not looking at me! I have to find a way for our eyes to connect or I'm going to get-!_

"DUMMY!"

With a sickening crunch, both of Final Problem's fists slammed into Two Tower's face, the resulting force pushing the Stand and its user backwards several more feet. Ron again found himself hitting the stone wall of the common room, and coughed painfully. He shook off the punch and staggered forward, clutching his still-bleeding head wound and wiping the blood off. If the blood fell into his eyes, he'd... he'd...

Why would that be bad again?

Ron froze in horror. He couldn't think of why that would be bad. Final Problem's powers had been used on him! The ability to lower the intelligence of the opponent, to stagnate their thinking process and keep them from making plans... In this kind of battle, it was truly a terrifying power! Ron needed time... Ron needed a plan!

Wincing as another heavy punch rained down on Two Tower's stomach and his intelligence dropped again, the youngest Weasley in Hogwarts raced across the common room, scooped up Harry, and heaved the black-haired kid onto his back. Harry shot him a bleary, questioning look, but Ron didn't answer. Instead, he took off straight at the portrait corridor - which lay past Hermione. Hermione narrowed her eyes, her long, brown hair flicking as she tilted her head. Final Problem shot at them with a bellow of _"DUMMY!"_ but Ron instinctively brought out Two Towers, who managed to use its speed to block the enemy Stand's oncoming punch.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione reached into her robes and withdrew her wand. She pointed it directly at Harry, then shouted, "Repulso!"

"Magic!?" yelped Ron, leaping to the side to avoid the burst of light that jetted from the tip of Hermione's wand. "And that's a second-year spell! How...? Whatever, I can't think of an answer and it doesn't matter! Up..." Still carrying Harry on his back, Ron leaped into the air, kicked off of the overturned tabled, and leaped directly at Hermione. The girl's eyes widened, but she didn't react soon enough to avoid the two as the redhead planted his feet on her shoulders, pressed down, and jumped off behind her. This did two things, even though Ron hadn't exactly planned for it: it sent Harry and Ron on the path to the portrait exit without anyone in their way, and it made Hermione lose her balance and fall forward, which bought them more time.

"Where 'r' we goin'?" drawled Harry stupidly.

Ron tore past the portrait of the Fat Lady and barreled into the stairwell without a look back. "I don't know and frankly, I don't care. I just need time to think and plan, which is going to be very hard with my mind all fuzzy like this, even without having to react and dodge **[Final Problem]** 's attacks. And no way in Morgana's sweaty socks am I leaving you there with Mistress Psycho back there."

"YOU GET BACK HERE SO I CAN KILL YOU IN THE NAME OF THE DARK LORD!" Hermione shrieked helpfully, now hot on their pursuit.

"AS IF ANYONE WOULD DO THAT!" Ron yelped back. Harry nodded hurriedly on his back.

"Is anyone going to close me?" sighed the Fat Lady rhetorically as the bushy-haired witch raced by her.

The chase led down the staircase, Ron clumsily hopping over the various trapped stairs. He had a heavier load to heave than Hermione, which normally would've made him much slower, but he had the advantage of running for his life, which meant that adrenaline made him go faster. Minutes later, they burst out of the bottom of the staircase. Since it was now past curfew and Ron didn't want to risk Filch or Mrs. Norris getting on their cases for being out in the halls after hours, he was running as silently as possible, but Hermione plowed on without concern, a stampede of insanity. That curious and disturbing bud coming out of her forehead bounced slightly as she ran.

Ron scanned the corridor for anywhere they could escape into and gain any leads on Hermione. He ended up ducking through a door and into an empty classroom, closing it quietly behind him. Another door lay on the opposite wall, and he raced to it. His hand was just twisting the doorknob when the one they'd just entered through opened again to reveal a steaming mad Hermione. Ron and Harry squeaked very heroically and powered through the second door to emerge... in the hall they'd just left? Blinking, they stared as opposite them, Hermione, her back turned to them, entered a classroom. Turning around, they saw Hermione plowing at them, and turning back around, they could still see her through the ajar door at the opposite end of the hall.

"What the..." Harry stared. "What's wrong with this hall!?"

"Must be some magic," Ron grumbled, shaking his head and blasting off down the hall. He ducked through another door into another empty classroom, with another door at the opposite wall. Leaving through the aforementioned door, they again found themselves on the same situation; having emerged from a door on the opposite end of the same hall they'd just left. "WHO IN THEIR SANE MINDS WOULD DESIGN A SPELL LIKE THIS!?" Ron exploded furiously, a sweatdrop hanging down the back of his head. Down the hall, Hermione nearly frothed at her mouth as she ran after them.

Hundreds of years earlier, Godric Gryffindor sneezed.

"RON, RUN!" cried Harry in a panic. "I'M TOO STUPID TO RUN RIGHT NOW!"

"Dear Merlin, I hope we never have to say that sentence ever again," said Ron through gritted teeth.

He took off down the hall again, ducking through more doors and ending up in completely random places in the hall. Once or twice, a ghost happened to float into the hallway and between the pursuer and her pursuees, got frightened by the terrifying students in the halls, and darted right back through the stone walls. A few minutes into the chase scene, one of the doors happened to spit them out directly behind Hermione, who swiveled around in surprise. Ron growled angrily, and Hermione backed up a little nervously before racing off down the hall, Ron hot on her heels. This went on for about half a minute more before they all suddenly froze.

"Wait, this isn't right," Ron said, blinking.

Hermione turned to them with a sweatdrop. "Er... yes, this seems wrong."

"So," Harry said uncertainly, "are you going to return to the script and try to kill us, or...?"

Several awkward moments passed.

"...DIE FOR THE DARK LORD!" Hermione yelled, and like an ADD author was getting back on track, Ron and Harry zipped away as fast as Ron's feet could carry them.

"Quick, through there!" Harry urged Ron, pointing to a door on their left. Ron entered through it and the friends emerged about ten meters down the corridor. "Have you thought of a plan to defeat her and her Stand yet?"

"No," Ron admitted as they ran down further from Hermione. "It's been too hard to think. That thing on her forehead looks like it's controlling her, so it would be best to get in close to her and yank it out, which would probably be easier for my Stand since your precision sucks. That would mean that we'd need a distraction for me to get in close. That would be a good job for **[Roundabout]** since its power makes up for not being as fast as **[Final Problem]**. So, you distract Hermione, and I'll use this whacky hallway to sneak up on her from behind. Then I'll be in a perfect position to use **[Two Towers]** to yank out that weird thing on her forehead."

They were both silent for a moment.

"...You came up with a plan," Harry deadpanned. Then he blinked. "Wait, I don't feel stupid anymore! I can think again!"

"Me too!" Ron realized, eyes widening as he turned around. Hermione was still storming down the hallway, but she hadn't taken the door that they had to get this far. "It must have something to do with distance. If you're hit by her Stand, your intelligence is only dumbed down if you're a certain distance from her. We must've broken the power by getting this far."

"Sounds crazy enough to be true," the raven-haired boy agreed. He slid off of Ron's back and turned around to face Hermione. "Alright, let's get cracking. Oi, you there, the girl oozing crazy. Ever notice how you come across somebody once in a while who you shouldn't have messed with? That's me."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she angrily ran even faster forward. "You want me to knock your head off your neck!?"

"Go ahead." Harry made a _come hither_ motion with his right hand. "Make. My. Day."

Ron dashed through the door they'd just come out of as Hermione raced up to Harry, hissing rather catlike. She spared a moment to glower at Ron as he disappeared, but turned back to Harry and brought out Final Problem. Punching her fists together, Hermione pointed out towards Harry's head, and Final Problem blasted in front of her. Harry narrowed his eyes and summoned Roundabout. Final Problem smashed its fist through the air in a powerful punch, but Roundabout jumped lightly aside and kicked the enemy Stand's arm. He also stomped on the floor to spread ice across to where Final Problem was still running. It was thrown off-balance from the kick and the sudden icy surface, and Final Problem's momentum carried it forward through the air. Harry smirked, then flung his arms horizontally out with a magician's flourish.

"TIBETAN BURN!" Harry bellowed, fear of Filch and Mrs. Norris forgotten as Roundabout swooped at its enemy. Its yellow hands grasped Final Problem's arm with a powerful vise grip, locking it in place. Hermione winced as ice spread across her Stand's arm and elbow. Harry chuckled evilly, then twisted the frozen skin in opposite directions.

"YOWCH!" Hermione yelped uncharacteristically, the skin on her arm twisting, too. She growled furiously and pointed at Harry. " **[Final Problem]**! Debuff Rush!"

 _"DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY!"  
_  
Final Problem yanked its arm out of Harry's grip, then powered forward in a series of incredibly quick punches. Roundabout's speed was a tick lower than its evil counterpart's, so it wouldn't have been able to dodge; that is, it wouldn't have had Harry kept it in the same spot. But Harry was smarter than that, and he mentally commanded it to leap backwards and place its hands on the floor. It did so, and ice coated the floor. Then it threw its hands up through the air, and the very air itself froze, the entire motion resulting in a massive, protective pillar of ice. Final Problem's purple fists punched easily through this, of course, but all Harry and Roundabout had to do was back up and continue to sweep their hands through the air. The ice replaced itself, a never-ending barrier.

"Do you know what the definition of insanity is?" Harry asked, readjusting his glasses with his pointer and middle finger. "It's repeating the same thing over and over despite it having the same effect." A cocky grin, perhaps created by the feeling of having finally been on the winning side of the battle, crossed his face. "Dummy."

"Why... you..." On the other side of the ice pillar, Hermione's face was red with rage.

Final Problem's face was equally red. _"DUUUUUMMMMYYYYY!"_ it bellowed, and with a truly impressive flurry, it smashed clear through all of Harry's ice without giving him the chance to make more. It reared its fist back and drove it forward-

"I know you are one. You don't need to keep saying it."

And a green, beefy arm reached out from behind to grab it mid-swing.

"Wh-What!?" Hermione looked over her shoulder in shock to see a smirking Ron and Two Towers standing there, Ron's hip thrust to the side, his hand resting on it, and his other bent to rub the back of his head. "How did you...? IMPOSSIBLE!"

"Thanks for the ice wall, Harry," Ron said gratefully, grinning as Hermione roared and fired off a Repulso at him. He dodged it easily despite how she'd cast it at just over point-blank range. "For just a second, her eyes connected with my reflection's. And because of that..."

Two Towers brushed aside a back kick from Final Problem and heaved it up and over the ice wall, sending it in a direct collision course with Roundabout's uppercutting fist.

"I know exactly what you're going to do, Hermione!" Ron concluded with a laugh.

Hermione choked as Roundabout's powerful fist slammed up into her Stand, and she found herself tossed high into the air. She crashed back to the floor with a heavy crunch and writhed in pain. Final Problem vanished as she curled into herself and clutched her stomach. Harry and Ron frowned, not liking the fact that they'd had to hurt her like this. The latter of the two then stepped forward, reached down, and summoned Two Towers to his side. His fingers hovered over the bud sticking out of Hermione's forehead, then he hesitated. "Harry, use **[Roundabout]** to freeze it. I think that would make it come out easier. Plus, it would stop the resulting wound from bleeding."

"Right," Harry agreed, and he did as Ron suggested. Ice spread across the strange fleshy protrusion.

Two Tower's green hand faded into existence around Ron's hand. He hesitated for a moment, looking to get just the right angle and power, and then pinched the bud between its fingers. With a sharp yell of "KIA!" Two Towers yanked backwards. The bud slid out with only a slight resistance. To Harry and Ron's shock and horror, it was much longer than they had originally thought, with long, tentacle-like appendages hanging off of its bottom that flailed in the air. Ron yelped, paled, and tossed it to Harry.

"KILL IT!" he gulped, scooting back. "IT'S ALIVE AND R-REALLY GROSS!"

Harry rolled his eyes and brought out Roundabout. "It's not a spider, you know," he said blandly.

Ron eyed the thing nervously as Harry ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA'd it dead. "Well... yeah... but it's still creepy, in my opinion."

Harry rose an eyebrow. "In my opinion, you're just a wimp."

"Am not!"

Hermione groaned, and both friends jumped and looked down at her. She was unmoving, having immediately stopped flailing around and struggling when the strange bud left her forehead. Even so, she seemed to be coming around, or at least part way there.

"...So what do we do with her now?" Harry asked uncertainly. "I think we should take her to Madame Pomfrey, but I think we should also go to Dumbledore, too."

"She did mention the Dark Lord a lot..." Ron rubbed the back of his head, then sighed. "Alright. I guess our game of chess is going to have to wait." He bent down to pick up Hermione, then grunted. "Oi, come help me, she's really heavy."

Harry again had to raise an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Y-Yes, of course I'm sure!" Ron sputtered. "What, I'm not weak! I have a little sister! I've picked up small humans half my body weight or more many times before!"

"Alright, alright," Harry said, rolling his eyes, and knelt down to help a buddy out. He grabbed Hermione's arms and Ron grabbed her legs, and they lifted her up rather like they were lugging a bed. Harry winced. "Okay, you may have a point. She is rather heavy."

"Told you so," Ron grumbled. And with that, they lugged her off to Madame Pomfrey, curfews be damned.

- **TO BE CONTINUED** -

 **Stand:** Final Problem (named after _The Final Problem_ , by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)  
 **Stand User:** Hermione Granger  
 **Ability:** Anything Final Problem punches will have its intelligence dropped so long as they remain within around ten meters of the user. Leaving this range will result in the power breaking.  
 **Stats:**

Destructive Power: B+  
Speed: A  
Precision: B  
Range: D  
Durability: B+  
Potential: A


	7. The Lightningdust Crusaders

**A/N:** _I have been made aware that my first posting of the previous chapter ended up being another upload of chapter 4. This has been fixed, and the previous chapter is now the real chapter 5. Sorry for the inconvenience!_

* * *

 **Chapter 6:**  
 **The Lightningdust Crusaders**

Harry and Ron quickly found that lugging a half-comatose Hermione Granger through the maze-like corridors and staircases of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a far greater strain on their arms than they'd thought. Their pacing was different, too; Ron was walking and pushing slightly faster than Harry was walking and pulling, meaning that Hermione kept accidentally knocking into Harry. Coordination seemed not to be their best skill at this time. However, this was the least of their problems. They had to be as quiet as possible so they wouldn't attract unwanted attention from Filch and/or Mrs. Norris, the previously mentioned man's eternally grumpy, grey cat.

Mrs. Norris was as notorious as her master, the caretaker, around Hogwarts; notorious for being an absolute prick of a cat. She seemed to have a sort of sixth sense for when a student was causing trouble or breaking the rules. Do the slightest thing wrong, and one would be almost certain to find beady, yellow eyes glowering at them from inside the nearest shadows. Most annoying of all was that both Filch and Mrs. Norris seemed to have memorized all of the ins and outs of Hogwarts. The Weasley twins swore that man and cat knew even more of the school's secret passages than they did, and they'd pretty much made it their life missions to discover every nook and cranny in Hogwarts.

Harry and Ron were very nervous indeed of being discovered as they continued to lug Hermione up a long flight of stairs to the next floor. Filch didn't very much enjoy listening to reason, as they had discovered that very morning. They'd been attempting to force their way through a locked door which had turned out to be the forbidden corridor on the third floor. The two friends had been threatened with being locked in the dungeon despite their terrified protests that they'd just been trying to get to class and hadn't been aware of which corridor it was. It was only thanks to Quirrel, who had been passing by at that time and giving the locked door a strange look, vouching for them that they had escaped this fate. Harry very highly doubted Filch would accept "taking a student, who tried to kill us, to the infirmary" as a valid answer, and neither did he have any want for detention.

"I swear, that old guy's evil if you ask me," Ron grunted as he strained to keep Hermione in the air while ascending the staircase. "Fred reckons he tried to beat him and George with a cudgel once."

The raven-haired Boy Who Lived scowled. "What's his problem, anyway? Being that grumpy all the time can't possibly be good for his health."

"Maybe he has spiders in his office," Ron guessed. "That would make a guy reasonably grumpy."

"Ron, not everyone is as terrified of spiders as you are."

"They have eight legs and way too many eyes! I say they should be killed with lots and lots of fire!"

"But they're harmless," said Harry, raising an eyebrow. "I slept in the same space as them for years and never got a single bite. They did tend to crawl on me a lot, though."

Ron, pale and slack-jawed, looked hilariously horrified. "Remind me to never touch you, ever."

Something soft hit the ground nearby them, and the hair on the back of Harry's neck rose on end. He froze and peered through the darkness. Then he winced as Hermione's head knocked against his funny bone.

"Ouch."

"Sorry." Ron winced sympathetically, then paused and tilted his head. "Why did you stop?"

"Shh," Harry hissed, releasing one of Hermione's arms to hold up a palm haltingly. The arm he'd released fell limply and swung in midair a few times before stopping. He lowered his voice to just barely above a whisper. "Did you hear that? It sounded like... like footsteps. Like really soft footsteps."

The redhead opposite him strained to listen. "I don't hear anything," he hissed back. "Do you think we're being followed?"

"I don't know." Harry squinted through the dark stairwell, examining the shadows of the walls and banisters. The torches that normally lit up the place had burnt out half an hour ago, creating a vast sea of darkness. The friends' eyes had long since adjusted to the lack of light, but it was still very tough to make out any meaningful shapes in the distance. Hogwarts at night was creepy and foreboding, or perhaps that was because there was the possibility of someone here who could control others into wanting to kill Harry and Ron.

Hesitating, the duo stood stock still in the stuffy silence, carrying Hermione - a human, comatose bridge - the entire time. Tension hung in the air for several long minutes. Finally, when they neither saw nor heard any other movements, Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"I guess it was just my nerves," he sighed. He leaned down and once again grasped Hermione's arm that he'd dropped. "Come on, let's continue. My arms are getting really tired."

"Relatable," mumbled a relieved Ron, and they once again struck up their uneven rhythm.

Neither of them noticed the feral eyes gleaming up at them, menacingly, from behind an alcove at the bottom of the stairwell.

Fifteen minutes of mostly silent walking later found them standing in front of the infirmary. Harry gently laid his side of Hermione down on the floor so that he could open the infirmary door. Light spilled into the hallway as he did so, and he again picked up Hermione and heaved her into the office of Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts's nurse. She'd been relaxing on one of the many beds laid evenly throughout the infirmary, perhaps exhausted from a long first, full day of the school year. When the door opened, however, she blearily stood up and rubbed her eyes.

"Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley?" she said groggily. "Why are you carrying Miss Granger like that, and why are you here, anyway?"

"Hermione attacked us earlier," explained Harry with a wince. "She was screaming stuff about being for the Dark Lord, and she had a weird, fleshy thing sticking out of her head. We managed to pull it out and destroy it, but she fell unconscious immediately upon us doing so."

Madam Pomfrey, now wide awake, frowned. She was a shorter woman, grey haired and blue eyed, and was well-known for being quite strict about her patients and their treatment. She was widely known for being remarkably skilled, however; indeed, she could treat most ailments and injuries in at least one night.

"I see," the nurse said, a dark look crossing her face. "That is quite bizarre indeed. Hm... well, I suppose the best way for answers is to wake the poor girl up." She reached into a pocket and withdrew her wand. "Please place Miss Granger on one of the beds. Any one is fine, they're all empty."

"Right," Harry and Ron chorused, and followed said instructions.

Once Hermione was resting flat on her back on the nearest bed to the door, Madam Pomfrey brandished her long wand and pointed it directly at Hermione. "Rennervate." Brilliant red light flashed from her wand and hit Hermione's forehead. The girl's eyes fluttered open, and she sat up blearily, rubbing the back of her head.

"Ow," Hermione complained. "It feels like I have a really bad headache for some reason..." Then she blinked and looked around. "...Why am I at the infirmary?"

"I would like to know the full details of these circumstances myself," Madam Pomfrey said, looking questioningly at Harry and Ron.

Harry exchanged a nervous glance with Ron, then looked back at the frowning nurse. "Alright, but we might need to have Professor Dumbledore come down, too. It was kind of a big deal, or it seems like it could be, at any rate."

Harry and Ron were told to wait in the infirmary with Hermione, who was very confused indeed, while Madam Pomfrey went to get the Headmaster. The brunette seemed to be totally lost on what had happened that night, which baffled Harry and Ron. She had appeared entirely aware of what she'd been doing before they extracted the fleshy bud from her. It was an awkward handful of minutes between the nurse leaving and her returning with Professor Dumbledore in tow behind her.

Once Dumbledore, a silver-haired old man with a rather epic beard, arrived at the infirmary, the two friends launched into their story. They explained all about their Stands, about having discovered how to fight with them when Malfoy had attacked them on the train, and about the events of Hermione attempting to kill them. Hermione had been horrified during the latter explanation, especially when Dumbledore said he could tell that they were being truthful.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized profusely, bowing low and nearly teary-eyed. "I would never normally want to kill either of you. I, I don't know what had come over me, and..."

Harry sweatdropped. "It's alright, Hermione, it's over now."

"Yeah, besides, neither of us even got hurt all that badly," Ron agreed. "My head hurts a bit from you punching me with **[Final Problem]** , but it's not even that bad, anyway. We're just happy you're back to normal."

"This talk about Stands is very disturbing," Dumbledore said, rubbing his chin worriedly. His normally happy and sparkling eyes were dimmed with concern. "I have, of course, heard of them before in several ancient texts. I met a rather bizarre Seer in Egypt around fifteen years ago, too, who mentioned them and their various powers which they can grant their users. At first I dismissed them as old superstitions about magic and powerful wizards, and the ramblings of a man who believed in them, but now... I can tell that everything you two have said, Harry and Ronald -"

" _Ron_ ," grumbled Ron under his breath.

"- is entirely true. And that's quite concerning. It appears that someone or something here in this school is capable of awakening people's Stands. Hermione, you mentioned that you have never before had been able to use **[Final Problem]**?"

"That's right, Headmaster," Hermione said nervously. "I always felt a sort of strange presence around me, but I never quite knew what it was, nor have I been able to see it until tonight." Final Problem, lying on the bed beside her in a _Draw me like one of your French girls_ style, waved happily. Harry and Ron sweatdropped, though neither Dumbledore nor Madam Pomfrey seemed able to see it. Hermione frowned at it, then looked back up at Dumbledore. "What do you suppose we should do? If I was somehow controlled like this, and had my... Stand awakened, then isn't it possible that the same thing might happen to other students?"

Dumbledore hummed. "Yes, that is quite possible indeed. The Stand awakening itself seems to not be altogether dangerous, although the Stands themselves appear to be quite deadly indeed. At the same time, however, you three, and young Mr. Malfoy, seem to be quite capable and dependable at wielding your Stands. Furthermore, we don't yet know just who is orchestrating this horrible scenario, although it is extremely likely that they have, or had, connections to Lord Voldemort."

Ron and Madam Pomfrey twitched violently. The Headmaster frowned at this, then shook his head.

"At any rate," Dumbledore continued, "I think that it is best to keep people as calm and collected as possible. We don't need any widespread panic about rumors of the possibility of Voldemort still being around, or of his supporters trying to make a comeback. I hate to ask something so dangerous of such young wizards and witches, but since you three and Mr. Malfoy are so capable, would you be willing to all work together to discover any Stand-related threats as they come up and stop them? Neither I myself, nor any of the staff members, have at this time a Stand, although I will do extensive research into how one might acquire one."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous looks.

"You mean that you want us to go looking for danger?" Harry asked incredulously.

Dumbledore sighed. "Putting it simply, yes. If there was any other way... But there isn't, and thus this is the best solution I can currently come up with."

Hermione bit her lip, then sat up straight. "Very well. I suppose this is, in a way, a crusade, isn't it?"

"I suppose one might call it that," said Dumbledore slowly, and a twinkle sparked in his eyes. "It would be a tremendous favor to the whole school."

"Well, I'm only in it if Malfoy agrees not to be a prick," Ron mumbled. "But, uh, this sounds interesting at the very least."

"I'm in." Harry crossed his arms. "Something just tells me it's the right thing to do, like I was always meant to do this."

"Very well," said Dumbledore with a smile. "You three will have done us all an enormous service. All we need is Mr. Malfoy to agree now, and that can be done tomorrow. But for now..." He clapped his hands together. "Bed! Staying up past midnight will make tomorrow, or should I say today, much tougher."

"Off with the lot of you, off I say!" huffed Madam Pomfrey, and promptly shooed everyone who wasn't her out of the infirmary. When the room was quiet once again, she sighed and rubbed her cheek. "Crusaders, eh? Something tells me that I will be seeing those three first years quite often from now on..."

~o~

In the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, once again swathed in night now that the door was shut and the torches in the hallway had burnt out, Quirrel slammed his fist down furiously against the surface of his desk. A resounding boom permeated the classroom and shook the various papers and books on his desk. A feather quill, placed precariously on the precipice of the desk, jumped slightly and dive-bombed off to the wooden boards of the floor below. Black ink splashed on the floor where the quill's tip brushed against it.

"Damn it all," Quirrel growled, his eye twitching. His back ached as it always did when he was stressed, ever since that fateful day in the Dark Forest. He quickly stood up and stretched, relishing in the relaxing feeling of his spine cracking. He couldn't enjoy it for long, though, due to the anger flooding his veins. "I can't believe that Potter and Weasley have Stands and know how to use them. And young Granger's power was completely useless for our own purposes, too! Nothing worked out with her!"

 _"Patience, servant,"_ drawled the inky grey face on the back of Quirrel's head. A sinister sneer crossed its lips, which made the face appear rather serpentine, especially considering the fact that said face had no nose. _"I, Voldemort, am still safe. Hermione knows not what happened to her tonight. Thanks to the effects of the great magic bud, created by both my Stand and Dark Magic, she will forever forget all of the circumstances that have just occurred. We are free to operate exactly as planned. Continue to use the arrow on the students and creatures of the Forest. One of them may yet have the power we seek. We should find it eventually. Even if it isn't useful for our purposes, we can still orchestrate the deaths of those who oppose us without anyone realizing what's going on. Granger may have been a failure, but our newest..._ recruit _... may not be. Anyway, in the meantime..."  
_  
Quirrel shuddered. "Unicorn blood."

 _"Unicorn blood,"_ agreed Voldemort.

Quirrel's eyes fell upon a golden goblet that sat in the center of his desk, filled with a strange, mystical silver-blue liquid. With a shaking hand, he reached out, grasped the cup, and lifted it up to his own lips. He hesitated, swallowing nervously, then at last tilted the shining vessel up. Cold, bitter liquid rolled against his tongue, and the most horrible, rotten taste he'd ever had the displeasure of tasting washed into his mouth. It was death, it was witnessing a million heartless executions at the same time; it was the taste of the lifeblood of a purely innocent creature that had been taken for evil.

On the back of his head, Voldemort's face twisted into a horribly pleased smirk, and its lips parted to let one, raspy sneer, like a thousand snakes hissing at once, permeate the empty classroom: _"Wryyyyyyyyyyy!"_

- **TO BE CONTINUED** -


	8. In Parenthesis, Part 1

**Chapter 7:  
In Parenthesis, Part 1**

"So, let me get this straight," Draco deadpanned the next morning, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione went over to the Slytherin table during breakfast. The magical ceiling above showed a sky spattered about with greyish clouds that peeked through the wide turquoise carpet. "You want me to risk my life for you to deal with a problem that I have absolutely no part in."

"That about sums it up, yes," Hermione confirmed. Around them, people shoved by as they boisterously walked about the Grand Hall to go visit their friends, or to grab some food that they didn't have nearby. Hermione glared at someone who quite rudely bumped into her and almost spilled their pumpkin juice all over her robes.

The blond, sitting backwards in his seat to look at them all, gave them a flat stare. "No."

Ron coughed. "Well, you _did_ kind of try to humiliate Harry and I in front of the whole school just because Harry decided he wanted to be _my_ friend. And you _did_ punch me in the face with your Stand. The least you could do to apologize is help save the school from a potential threat."

"Those are trivial matters." Draco folded his arms and rested one leg against the other's knee in a figure four position. "Besides, I had to get dragged into the Sorting Ceremony by Filch grabbing me and pulling me by the ears. There's no way I'm helping either you or Potter unless you can give me a _very_ good reason why I should, Weasley. Granger, though..." His bored eyes fell upon her. "She may be a mere Mudblood, but she at least hasn't done anything to me yet, so I _might_ be bothered to at least her out, if it wasn't for the fact that she's apparently friends with you two now."

"Mudblood?" Hermione wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"MUDBLOOD!?" bellowed Ron, seething.

Everyone within earshot swiveled around in their seats to stare interestedly at the conversation, drawn by the strange word _.  
_  
"Oh, _shit,_ he _went_ there!" said a random Ravenclaw sixth year, who earned himself a nasty frown from his nearby Head Boy.

"What's a Mudblood?" Harry asked Ron, who was absolutely livid. The boy's ears had turned pink with rage, and he ground his teeth together like he was only barely holding back a truly biting insult at Draco.

Ron's fists trembled with his fury. "It's a really mean insult against Muggleborns," he snarled, glowering at the stone-faced Malfoy. "It's about as low, as nasty as one can get. It's basically poking fun at the fact that they don't have any magic in their family history - saying that they have 'dirty blood.' It's a whole bunch of unicorn bollocks if you ask me. There's loads of Muggleborns who are much better at magic than even ancient Pureblood families."

Oh. _Ohhh_. Harry's gaze shifted to Malfoy and fell into a glare. The blond seemed largely unperturbed by the furious looks he was getting, or by the countless pairs of eyes turned very interestedly upon the four first-years.

Hermione's fist shook with rage.

"Um, Hermione," said Harry, who had caught his second new friend's rage out of the corner of his eye, "I know you're upset about this; I am, too, but you should really hold back, because the entire school's kind of watching us, and we could lose House Points if we start a fight..."

The bushy-haired brunette paused and looked around for several moments. Their unwanted audience blinked in creepy unison.

"...If they don't see me do anything, we can't lose any points for Gryffindor," Hermione said reasonably, turning back to Harry with a sly grin that seemed somehow very out-of-character for her. Harry and Ron blinked. Draco looked equally confused, frowning as he tried to understand what Hermione was saying. A second later, though, her meaning became clear... or, rather, her Stand did as it faded into existence, leaped forward, and slammed its fist into Draco's rich face heavily.

Malfoy's head snapped back into his omelette.

"HUUUH!?" around thirty voices gasped in unison, staring bug eyed as Draco suddenly fell back into his breakfast for no apparent reason.

One of the Weasley twins, grinning widely, pulled a megaphone out of nowhere and yelled into it, "OOOOHHHHHHHH HOT _DA-_!"

"Weasley!" barked McGonagall, glaring at the twin from behind the staff table.

"... _DIAMONDS!"_

The sound of footsteps drew the trio's attention to Dumbledore, who had walked over from the staff tables to where they stood in front of Draco. The youngest Malfoy sputtered as he picked himself out of his smashed breakfast and brushed bits of egg, cheese, pepper, and more out of his blond hair.

"Does there seem to be any problem here?" said the Headmaster, not unkindly.

"No, sir, there's no problem at all," Hermione answered with a beatific smile. Harry and Ron gaped.

Draco shook the last of his omelette out of his hair, then pointed a furious finger at Hermione, snarling. "Wrong! You just punched me in the face!"

"So, you claim that Miss Granger here started a fight?" the long-bearded man asked calmly.

"EEEEXAAACTLY!" Draco drawled slowly, like he was tired of having to explain this already.

The Headmaster stood considering for a few moments. The blond rich kid sat panting angrily, still shocked at getting punched. Harry and Ron felt nervous goosebumps starting to spread along their arms. They didn't want detention this early in their school career, and especially not with every pair of eyes in the Great Hall - student, staff, and ghost alike - staring directly at them while they got it. For now that Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, _everyone_ was watching them.

"I'm afraid I didn't see Miss Granger make any negative movements against you, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said at last. Harry swore he saw a knowing twinkle in the man's eye. "Please don't spread false information about your fellow students."

And with that, he walked away. Most everyone in the Great Hall turned back to whatever they'd been doing before, somewhat disappointed.

Ron let out a breath of relief, then frowned at Hermione. He appeared unsure whether to hug her or be horrified by her. He shook his head bemusedly, saying, "That was bloody awesome, but _please_ don't do that again. I think I almost got a heart attack, and I'm _eleven_."

Hermione smirked. "He had it coming."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Harry said, sweatdropping. Ron nodded hastily beside him.

Draco's eye twitched, and he gingerly rubbed his now-sore face as he glared testily at the trio. Sitting either side of him, Crabbe and Goyle hesitated, ensure of what actions to take. At last, the blond leaned back and rested his elbows against the edge of the table. He turned his head to the left and regarded them out of the corner of his eyes, folding his hands in a Gendo Pose manner despite the angle of his head. "Fine then. Granger, Weasley. Potter." He said the last name like he'd rather see gum on the bottom of his shoe. "You three, meet Crabbe, Goyle and I in the trophy room tonight. No contact, no Stands - just magic. We'll settle this then. You win, and I'll join your little crusade. You lose, and you lot stay out of my hair."

Hermione harrumphed. "You want me to duel you tonight? That's against the rules. I won't do anything like that."

"You just punched me in the face!" Draco said in disbelief.

"That was different. Just help us fight anyone who reveals themselves to be a Stand user and who's an enemy. Professor Dumbledore is even willing to give you extra House Points if you do. Go ask him yourself," she added, when Draco scoffed. "It's true."

"Hermione," Harry said nervously, "maybe we should accept his challenge. He doesn't seem like he'll take no for an answer."

The blond nodded. "Listen to Potter. He's talking logic for once." Harry scowled at him, but Draco forged on. "The only way you'll convince me to join is by proving all three of you can hold your own in a fight. Potter and Weasley have already... done so regarding Stands, but we're in a school of _magic_. What if someone combines jinxes and curses with their Stands? I won't be willing to join a band who can't hold their own."

"He..." Ron sighed and slumped. "As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point."

Harry blanched. He hadn't even thought about _magical_ duels. How did wizards duel, anyway? What exactly happened in one?

But Hermione shook her head resolutely. "I'm not going to engage in something so stupid and pointless as this. Professor Dumbledore wants us to be a team, Malfoy. We can't work together properly if we fight amongst ourselves. Besides, I refuse to break any school rules if I can avoid it."

Draco studied her intently for a minute, then sighed and shook his head. "Your loss, then. But in case you still want to chance gaining me on your little team, I'll still be waiting for you in the trophy room tonight. Eleven thirty. Right, Crabbe, Goyle?"

"Right!" the two lackeys echoed stupidly.

Hermione wrinkled her nose, then turned to Harry and Ron and started walking away. "Come on, you two," she said with a frown. "We're done here."

The two boys exchanged mystified glances before hurrying to keep pace with their fellow crusader.

"Hermione, come on, Draco's power would be really useful in a fight!" Harry pleaded. He didn't much like the Stand user himself, but the boy's Stand was quite good. And given some proper experience... "He had Ron and I on the ropes there for a bit! We only one because neither he nor we were very serious about it and because I happened to think outside the box a bit."

"No," his new friend said stiffly. "Rules are rules."

"I don't much like the idea of working together with _Malfoy_ on anything," Ron admitted, "but even I have to agree that it'd be nice to at least have another backup fighter. Come on, Hermione, it'll only be for a little bit!"

Hermione stopped so suddenly that Harry and Ron almost ran into her. She whirled around, exasperation decorating her countenance. "And have either of you actually been in a wizard's duel, hm? Do you even know any magic? What happens if we all fight and you two lose, leaving only me to fight all three of them? What then?"

Harry and Ron stared.

"I, uh," Harry started, lost for words. He shook his head and said, "Well, how do you suppose we get Malfoy to join us, then?"

Ron jumped on that wagon. "Yeah, you heard him! He's only going to join if we can prove we're strong enough!"

Hermione hesitated. Harry could practically see the gears in her head turning, trying to come up with a solution. At last, Hermione grunted and rolled her eyes. "Alright," she said, her voice dripping in annoyance, "but if we get caught, I'm saying you two forced me to come with you."

"You do you," Ron said, shrugging.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves all anxiously awaiting their coming duels that night. They had trouble paying attention in class, each stressed about the event in their own way. None of them wanted to be sent home on their third day in Hogwarts. Harry especially feared this; what would the Dursleys say if he showed up on their doorstep, having been kicked out of school? It would be horrifying.

Hermione, for her part, dealt with her stress by forcing Harry and Ron to spend every minute of their free time when they didn't have to be going to class in an empty or abandoned classroom. In these rooms, they all studied dueling magic from books that Hermione had borrowed from the library. Harry felt a particular draw towards the _Expelliarmus_ spell, which he discovered in a book bound in yellow leather. They even tried practicing a few of the spells on each other, though nothing that would leave any lasting effects, like the Full Body-Bind Curse. Ron seemed to be having a bit of trouble picking up any spells, though by nine o'clock, Hermione had mastered _Repulso_ , the Confoundus Charm, and (strangely enough) _Scourgify_. Harry had at least started to get decent with _Expelliarmus_.

Finally, eleven o'clock rolled around. The two wizards and one witch left their most recent abandoned classroom, which now retained a particular smell of fresh soap, and stretched as they got ready to leave.

"It's probably best we go now," Hermione reasoned, frowning at a clock that hung on a wall. "Better that we're early than we're late."

Harry nodded. "That's a good idea. If we don't arrive on time, Malfoy might decide we're not coming and leave."

Ron wiped some sweat from his brow. Trying to train your body to fire off different types of magic all day long was certainly not an easy task, especially for a first-year student. "Alright, then." He fought back a yawn and started for the door. "Let's get going."

They left the classroom nervously, double- and triple-checking for any signs of Filch or Mrs. Norris roaming the halls. Not seeing any, they carefully crept along the dimly lit halls. Sweat pooled on their foreheads. If they were caught, it would be _horrible_. Every slight brush of air against their skin felt like Filch breathing down their necks; every flicker of light felt like a ghost swooping in on them, to go tell a teacher about their presence. Their robes swishes quietly around their feet as they carefully made their way up to the third floor, where (according to Hermione) the trophy room could be located.

It took them about ten or fifteen minutes to reach the trophy room. It was a wide and long rectangle of a room, with an alabaster floor and walls, as well as a few windows peering eerily out into the dark night that the castle was submerged in. Different cups of victory and statues sat on pedestals and in clusters upon tables. Each had either a gold, silver, or bronze plating on their bottoms. Letters were stenciled into these, indicating who got them, when they were earned, and for what purposes they had been awarded.

Other than Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the trophy room was empty.

"Looks like Draco and his goonies aren't here yet," Ron observed, looking around the place.

Hermione snorted. "Thank you for that, Captain Obvious."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm," Harry returned flatly despite not being the object of the brunette's sarcasm. He rolled his wand between his fingers idly. "What do you suppose we should do now? There's, what, fifteen minutes until when we're supposed to have our duel?"

Ron tilted his head in consideration. "I guess just practice more, or maybe talk strategy," he suggested.

"Practicing would be too dangerous." Hermione shook her head and put her hands on her hips sternly. She rather reminded Harry of a much younger McGonagall. "What if something went wrong and a spell accidentally hit one of the trophies because we didn't want to hurt one of our own? Better to save the magic for the duel itself. I still can't quite believe I agreed to this stupidity," she mumbled under her breath in addition.

"And there's no need for strategy, either, really," Harry pointed out. "It's just pointing your wand at your opponent and shouting nonsensical words."

Ron tried to come up with a counter for that. He failed. "What, then, we just wait?"

And so they waited.

And they waited.

And they waited some more. But no-

"This is boring," grumbled Ron impatiently. His fingers tapped a rhythmic beat on his arm.

Harry frowned at him. "Ron, you interrupted the narration."

"I know, but we're just doing _nothing_! And it's been _twenty minutes_ already!"

"That seemed pretty quick," Hermione muttered, raising an eyebrow. "Well, in any case, neither Draco, Crabbe, nor Goyle have shown yet. Do you think Malfoy was just playing us?"

"Sounds rude enough to be true," Harry grumbled. He wrote a mental note to take a leaf out of Hermione's book and punch Draco in the face next time they saw him. He stretched his back and stuffed his wand back in his robes. "Come on, then. Let's return to Gryffindor Tower and get some rest."

"Sleep," yawned Ron without hesitation. "Now that's an idea I can get behind."

The trio cautiously left the trophy room and started to make their way down the hall, but they were just approaching a curve in the hall when they heard footsteps coming up to them. Lantern light, faint and widespread enough that it must have been cast from a lantern at least five or ten feet away, danced on the wall ahead of them and to their left. Fear gripped Harry, Ron, and Hermione's hearts.

"Filch!" Harry rasped as quietly as possible, eyes wide in horror. "Malfoy must've alerted him that we'd be out of bed here! We need to run!"

"Where's that whacko hallway when you need it?" groaned Ron as they dashed back down the way they'd come.

Their feet pattered as softly as they dared on the cold stones of Hogwarts Castle, doors racing by them as the ran. Filch definitely saw their backs, but it was too dark for him to make out who they were. They pressed onward, hoping against hope that they'd be fast enough to escape him. They definitely seemed to be making some headway; his footsteps got softer and softer the farther they dashed, the swinging of his lantern sounding fainter and fainter. None of them dared look back, however, lest they slow themselves down or give Filch a glimpse of their faces. They made random turns, choosing paths that would hopefully get Filch off their trail. At last, when they could no longer see the dim glow of his lantern on the stone walls near them, they ducked into a classroom and closed its door behind them silently. They waited with pounding hearts.

A minute later, they heard the telltale sounds of Filch huffing and puffing past the door, which quickly faded into nothingness.

Harry let out a breath of relief. "Man, that was too close," he gasped. His heart felt like it was racing at a million kilometers per hour. "If we hadn't chosen to leave when we did, we'd have been caught by Filch."

Hermione gripped the doorknob testily. "Do you think it's safe for us to go back out and sneak off to our dorms?" she asked with cheeks flushed from the stress of the chase.

"No idea," Harry said softly. "Ron, what do you think?"

No answer.

"...Ron?"

"Guys," said Ron slowly, a quiver in his voice, "please tell me I'm imagining the yellow cat eyes staring at us from underneath that desk."

Harry and Hermione glanced over their shoulders to where Ron stood shaking, pointing at a spot nearby them. He was facing the opposite direction of the door, a cold sweat on his cheeks. Harry followed the line of his pointing... and froze as he saw exactly what Ron had described. Hermione's breath hitched, too.

She pulled out her wand quickly and held it up. "Lumos!" she intoned with perfect diction.

Immediately, the empty room was bathed in light that erupted from the tip of Hermione's wand, and they saw they were in one of the many bathrooms scattered about the castle. The desk Ron had been describing was actually a sink; they just hadn't been able to tell with all the encroaching shadows. And underneath that sink was...

"Mrs. Norris," Harry breathed in awed fear. His face paled worse than Nearly Headless Nick's.

The trio plastered themselves to the still-closed door and wall. They didn't dare move.

"W-What should we do?" Ron stammered, eyes wide. "Run?"

Hermione gulped. "She's already seen us. She'll just lead Filch to us sometime and he'll know exactly who he was chasing tonight."

Mrs. Norris stalked forward menacingly, and all three first-years made themselves as small against the walls as possible. Ron definitely didn't let out a very unmanly squeak. It was only then, as she drew ever closer, that Harry's eyes happened to catch something very unusual about her.

"Look," he rasped, pointing a trembling finger to her forehead. A fleshy bud, just like the one that Hermione had sported the previous night, erupted on Mrs. Norris's forehead. "She's got one of those weird buds, too!"

"Just great," Ron moaned. "A terrifying cat with a Stand. Could this night get any-?"

Hermione immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with equal parts disbelief and exasperation. "Haven't you read or watched _any literature_?" she demanded through a hiss. "You _never_ say that in situations like these! _NEVER!_ "

"Never thought you'd be an action book and movie nerd, too," Harry prodded, keeping a careful eye on Mrs. Norris, who still was menacingly approaching them.

"Now is _not_ the time!" Hermione shot him an embarrassed glare.

"I don't see you denying it."

Their bickering was put to a halt, however, by Filch's beloved cat, her dust-colored fur shining in the wandlight, baring her teeth and glowing in a disturbing, blue light. As they all watched in horror, from her body and flowing above it stretched a large Stand the size of a normal human. It had a cat's head and paws in place of hands. Its skin and fur was the same color as Mrs. Norris's.

"I-It's just a cat - we've got this," Harry gulped.

Hermione shook. "Oh, I am going to _kill_ Malfoy for this."

"NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA!" the cat-headed Stand bellowed as it rushed forward and flung a flurry of punches at them. It was quite slower than Roundabout, but had the advantage of freaking _claws protruding from its fists_!

" **[Roundabout]**!" Harry shouted, readjusting his glasses with his middle and third fingers.

"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!"

All of the part-cat Stand's punches were knocked away by Roundabout's fists, which swung at lightning speed. Mrs. Norris winced at the connection of Roundabout and her Stand. Ron swallowed, then took the chance of Harry distracting its Stand to form his own.

" **[Two Towers]**! Take out Mrs. Norris!"

The green-skinned man faded into existence in front of Ron and leaped into the fray. It swung the mightiest punch it could muster at the thrice-damned cat. Just as it was barreling down, though -

"Ron, stop!" Hermione shouted, eyes wide. "You're not attacking Mrs. Norris! You're...!"

It was too late. Ron thought Two Towers's fist connected with Mrs. Norris, but suddenly the world from his Stand's point of view shifted. Two Towers found itself punching the side of _Harry's_ head, instead! Horror rose up in him. How!? He'd aimed directly at Mrs. Norris!

 _"HARRY!"_ gasped a terrified Hermione and Ron.

There was the sickening crunch of knuckles against skull, and Harry was blasted into the air and into one of the stalls of the bathroom. He landed haphazardly on a toilet. His elbow crashed into the flusher, and the sound of rushing water filled the area. Roundabout faded from view.

"M-Merlin's beard," Ron gasped. Two Towers turned back to Mrs. Norris and her Stand, raising its fists in preparation to fight them. "Just what on Earth is her ability! I... I thought I was attacking her, but then suddenly I saw Harry and couldn't stop myself in time!"

"No," Hermione said softly, narrowing her eyes as she brought out Final Problem. "It's not that... You were attacking Harry the whole time."

"WHAT!? Impossible!"

Over in his stall, Harry tried to lift himself up, but fell back limply. His head bounced with a rough ding against the metal pipes that attached his toilet to the wall. Ron winced and looked at his hands in horror.

" **[T-Two Towers]** isn't that strong in a Stand fight," he said. His voice cracked. "Physically, i-it's weaker than a lot of others. But... against a Stand user alone..."

Hermione bit her lip. "Harry will be fine," she said. A dangerous glare shifted into focus in her eyes, and she cracked her knuckles as she faced Mrs. Norris again. "Right now, though, we need to work on defeating... whatever Stand power she has."

 _"NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA!"  
_  
Mrs. Norris was rushing at them again, trying to get as much speed as she could. Her Stand's fists rushed through the air, but Hermione took up Harry's place before, blocking it all with her Final Problem's speed. Meanwhile, Ron carefully looked into its owner's eyes. What kind of ability did Mrs. Norris have? What was she planning with it...?

Having gained the upper hand in speed, Hermione smirked.

"Alright, you mythical monster!" she declared, twisting her back and crossing her arms. "I've got it now. Punch it, **[Final Problem]**!"

Final Problem also smirked eagerly as it drew its fist back for a mighty punch, aimed at the enemy Stand's midsection.

Two lines of thought shot through Ron's mind from his connection with Mrs. Norris's eyes. His own optical orbs widened in horror. "Hermione, no, wait! Don't punch-!"

 _"DUMMY!"  
_  
"Gyaaah!"

Ron felt himself get blasted backwards, his stomach aching in pain. The door itself crumbled to bits as he smashed through it, and he bounded off one of the walls in the empty hall outside. He landed on the floor, shaking. Hermione stood in the now-empty doorframe in horror.

"H-How...?" She gaped with pale cheeks and a slackened jaw at Ron, who was struggling to get to his feet. "I thought I was aiming at Mrs. Norris's Stand..."

"It's... h-her power..." Ron choked, clutching his stomach. He supported himself with a knee against the ground and a palm holding him up. His whole body flared in pain. "Her power...! I saw it, just as you were attacking. I t-tried to warn you..." He coughed weakly. "Her Stand power... is the ability to automatically shift any attacks made at either her or her Stand to a nearby friend of the attacker, or if none are conscious or nearby, to the attacker! If a Stand tries to punch her Stand, it will find itself punching a friend or its S-Stand user!"

Hermione's eyes bugged out of her head. _"WHAT!?_ But that's...! That's ridiculous!"

"WATCH OUT, HERMIONE!" Ron yelled suddenly, and Two Towers was summoned around him. It shot forward and blocked a swipe of Mrs. Norris's Stand's claws that had been meant for Hermione's head, since she'd been turning her back to it.

Hermione flinched, but frowned as she didn't feel any knockback. "I didn't feel anything from that!" she told Ron, spinning back around to glare at the enemy Stand. "Are you sure that's her power?"

"P-Positive! The only reason you d-didn't feel me suddenly attack you... was because that wasn't a m-movement made with the intent to hurt! That's her Stand's weakness!"

Hermione took a step back through the empty door frame as Mrs. Norris made her Stand send another powerful flurry of swipes at her. Final Problem blocked them all, but she was losing ground. "Still," Hermione grunted, swallowing a nervous pit in her throat, "that's a ridiculously overpowered ability... how are we supposed to fight against something like that?"

Ron, still just barely holding himself up on the floor, gulped. "We're not. It's impossible!"

Mrs. Norris again stalked forward, eyes blazing yellow.

Her Stand leaped forward, arms flailing at Hermione. _"NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA!"  
_  
Final Problem grunted and flew into action. _"DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY!"_

"H-Hermione!" Ron whimpered as his newest friend and fellow crusader was forced to solely defend against the many punches and swipes of claws. "Hermione! There's nothing we can do! Just run!"

"Nothing we can do?" Hermione grunted as Mrs. Norris landed a lucky swipe on Final Problem's arm. "You said that it had to be an attack done with the intent to hurt, right?"

Ron blinked away tears that had started to form in his eyes. "Y-Yeah. Why?"

"If that's the case... cover her Stand for me, please!"

Hermione suddenly ran forward into the bathroom, past where Mrs. Norris's Stand and Final Problem were locked in their rush. The cat with the dust-grey fur tilted its head at her with what almost could've been a cautious frown adorning its face. She raced over to the sink, called back Final Problem, and smashed the sink to pieces with it. Ron blinked, then commanded Two Towers to keep Mrs. Norris and her abilities in check. Water flowed over the floor from the now-broken pipes, but Hermione paid her suddenly soaked shoes and feet no attention. Instead, she let out a furious howl as Final Problem rushed to pick up all the metal shards left over from Hermione smashing the sink, and throw them as hard as possible at the different stalls.

"If that's the case," Hermione said again, her smirk growing wider and more confident, "then that means that attacks that come randomly at it, especially from objects that can't think, won't fall under her powers!"

Little diamonds and flat shards of porcelain sink ricocheted off the stalls, fired at speeds of bullets from Final Problem's hands. Mrs Norris nervously eyed them as they knocked about everywhere. A couple even bounced back to Hermione and cut up the sides of her legs, making her draw a pained gasp. But she stood her ground, pointing and smirking right at the brainwashed cat.

Mrs. Norris backed up, her hair on end. Her Stand faded from existence, and Two Towers waited a moment before doing the same.

Ron watched nervously. Would any of the broken shards hit their enemy?

Seven horrible seconds passed, the shards dinging off of the floor, off of the ceiling, off of a lamp that hung overhead.

And, then, finally, one lodged itself deep into the cat's back.

- **TO BE CONTINUED** -

 **Stand:** In Parenthesis (named for _In Parenthesis_ by David Jones, a war novel with major themes of betrayal)  
 **Stand user:** Mrs. Norris  
 **Ability:** Any attacks with the intent to injure that are done to either In Parenthesis or Mrs. Norris will instead shift to one of the attacker's nearby friends. If the attacker has no conscious friends nearby, the attacks will shift to the attacker instead.  
 **Stats:**

Destructive Power: varies  
Speed: C  
Precision: A  
Range: A  
Durability: B  
Developmental Potential: E


	9. In Parenthesis, Part 2

**Chapter 8:  
** **In Parenthesis, Part 2** **  
**

"Alright!" yelped Hermione in surprised delight. She'd been half-expecting her plan to fail, and for none of the sink shards to actually hit her target. But luck was apparently on their side, for she clearly saw the shard of porcelain lodge itself into Mrs. Norris's back. She pumped her fist in the air and cheered, "We got it!"

"N-No..."

"Huh?"

Hermione shifted her focus back on the hoarse-sounding Ron, and immediately paled. Blood spouted out of his back, and his face was quickly losing color. His arms trembled, and he lost his ability to hold himself up. Instead, he tilted to the side, teetered precariously, and at last crashed heavily back onto the floor. Guilt and horror washed over Hermione as she looked from the enemy cat to her new redheaded friend. The wound in Ron's back that was now gushing blood was in the exact same spot relatively as Mrs. Norris's wound would've been... except that Mrs. Norris didn't _have_ any injury at all.

"You d-didn't get it..." Ron choked out, his hand twitching. "It was a... g-good try, but... that Stand is t-too strong..."

His head rolled limply to the side and his eyes closed. He'd fallen unconscious.

"Ron..." Hermione's shaking hand clenched tightly into a fist, and she turned to glare at Mrs. Norris. "I just made friends for the first time in my life," she said, choking with rage. "And you made both of them nearly die. I can't... I can't..." The smartest witch in Hogwarts felt her entire body tremble. She was _pissed_ , she wanted to punch that cat that made her friends hurt like this, but she knew that if she did, she'd only get punched herself. Even so... What was she supposed to do about these feelings? "I can't... I CAN'T HOLD MYSELF BACK ANY LONGER!"

With a furious bellow that almost sounded more like a growl, Hermione tore forward, clawing the air as she rushed at Mrs. Norris. The grey cat stood silently, regarding her through half-lidded eyes. It didn't make any moves, not to attack, not to defend. This only made Hermione angrier. It was like Mrs. Norris didn't even see her as a threat; even though she knew it was because the cat's power would protect it, she couldn't help feeling like that.

"You... you..." Hermione, filled with a fury she'd never known before, brought her own fist slamming down at it. Angry red knuckles flew through the air on a collision course with Mrs. Norris's nose.

 _RETURN!  
_  
Instead of hitting Mrs. Norris's nose, the second that her fist touched the cat, it instead ricocheted back uncontrollably and slammed into Hermione's nose. Her head snapped back from the sudden shock, and she howled in pain. Blood streamed out of her now-broken nose. Hermione staggered backward, cursing, "Wha da hell was dat sound effect!?"

Hogwarts's brightest first year slammed her foot down on the floor to stop her unintentional backpedaling and panted heavily. She tried to stop the blood flow from her nose, but finding her efforts in vain, she settled for simply tearing off a piece of her robes and tying it around her head below her nostrils. At least this way the flow would slow down, and she wouldn't have to be down one hand in the fight.

Speaking of the fight... how on Earth was one supposed to beat a Stand with this kind of power?

Mrs. Norris bared her teeth and hissed demonically, and glowed grey with the iconic light of a Stand user. Her cat-headed Stand materialized out of her again and stomped menacingly across the floor. It loomed over Hermione, cracking its knuckles. Its claws slipped out of its paws at the ready. Hermione grunted and turned her body to the side, crossing her arms and cocking her head to face forward with a snarl. She then summoned Final Problem for protection, who pirouetted twice before stopping with its leg horizontally out to the left, one arm straight up in the air, and the other curving around its body.

Since she couldn't attack, for now, she'd defend, and try to think of a plan.

 _"NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA!"_ roared In Parenthesis as it barreled its clawed fists forward.

Final Problem, its own nose broken like Hermione's, reacted immediately. As it had done several times that night, it shot its fists out in wide sweeps, knocking away any attempts to touch it. _"DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY!"_ it insisted as it rapidly blocked. At least In Parenthesis didn't seem to be able to break past Final Problem's speed, Hermione thought with narrowed eyes.

Having bought herself some time, Hermione swallowed dryly and tapped one fist against her forehead. "Alright, think, think, think... What possible weaknesses could a Stand with a power as ridiculously broken as this one have?" If physical attacks couldn't work against it, what would? Elemental attacks? No, that would be the same as Hermione's attempt to throw shards of the sink all over the bathroom: Useless. Mental attacks? That _might_ work but who knew whether any attempts to mentally break Mrs. Norris would just get returned back to her as well? That was too uncertain to risk doing.

Hermione's fists trembled. So, if nothing like that could work... what would!?

Suddenly, a thought shot through her mind like a bullet. The intent to injure... intent... in other words, an action that had to be thought about... Maybe using random attacks with inanimate objects wasn't enough, but this...!

Smirking a thin, excited smirk, Hermione spun out of her pose and pointed swiftly at her feline opponent. "Mrs. Norris!" she exclaimed, chuckling. "I have discovered how to get around your Stand power!"

And with that, Final Problem knocked aside one more flailing claw swipe, drew its other fist back, and tapped it against In Parenthesis's stomach with only just enough power and intent to be called an attack. Hermione flinched as Final Problem was suddenly turned around to find its fist hitting Hermione's stomach instead. Then her eyes dulled as her brain's intelligence nosedived. And the smirk just continued to widen.

"How does it feel," Hermione drawled stupidly, her face limp and barely controlled as she pointed right at Mrs. Norris, "to be defeated by your own Stand power?"

The grey cat stared in confusion. "Nya?" said In Parenthesis, tilting its head and wrinkling its nose.

The brunette grinned and made a come-hither motion with the last of the intelligence that was draining from her brain. "If you think you can beat me, just come try! But I'll make a bet. You... won't even be able... to fight... back!"

Mrs. Norris narrowed her eyes at Hermione, trying to discern what she was thinking. But all she saw was a stupid, blank smirk on the girl's face. Frowning as much as a cat could, she hissed and sent In Parenthesis stepping forward for a punch. Final Problem acted on instinct, sidestepping altogether. In Parenthesis's eye twitched, and it swiped at Final Problem's face with the intent to claw out its eyes. The beefy, purple Stand simply ducked under the attack clumsily. Growling, the cat-headed punch ghost sent out a flurry of punches, but these were all dodged and/or blocked. Annoyed, Mrs. Norris decided to go all out with her speed. Final Problem was able to keep up, but found itself being forced to move around in order to dodge some.

The fight forced Final Problem around the bathroom, In Parenthesis never letting up its NYA NYA NYA NYA for even a single second. At last, Hermione's Stand found itself backed up against a stall, the one next to the stall in which Harry was laying, unconscious, across the toilet. It also happened to be only a few feet away from Mrs. Norris herself, and facing her.

In Parenthesis smirked. With an excited "NYA!" it drew back both its fists slowly for a furious double-claw punch.

But that gave Final Problem the chance it needed.

One purple, heavily muscled arm barreled forward like a freight train, smashing through the air and into In Parenthesis's face. Hermione's eyes gleamed, and her dumb smirk widened to the point of insanity. Mrs. Norris's eyes widened... in delight as Final Problem's fist drove back into its own face instead.

The smirk from Hermione's face was wiped off completely. The pure shock made her power drop as Final Problem, and likewise her, were flung back from the force of its own punch. Final Problem slammed into the bathroom stall, and Hermione crunched against the stone wall. She coughed blood and fell forward, only barely keeping herself from belly-smacking against the floor. Even that had failed!? Even a purely instinctive punch from someone who had absolutely no intelligence in their brain to even think about attacking wasn't enough to win!?

"This Stand... is unbeatable..." choked Hermione, fighting to keep conscious.

But it was at that point that something entirely unplanned by anyone in that bathroom, human or otherwise, happened to occur.

Final Problem being slammed into the bathroom stall had the effect of completely knocking the stall door off its hinges. The pure speed of the flying Stand (at least, until it hit the wall) caused the stall door to fall forward instead of backward, its upper half tilting down and to the front instead of down and to the back. A rectangular shadow loomed over Mrs. Norris as she cackled silently from her victory over all three of the Golden Trio.

 _"Nyayayayaya!"_ Mrs. Norris cackled in her head. _"I am the strongest Stand user in this dumb school! Thanks to the Dark Lord, with the power of my_ _ **[In Parenthesis]**_ _, there is no one who could beat me! Nyayayayaya..."_ Her inner laughter trailed off upon the cat noticing the ever-growing shadow that now covered her. _"...Eh?"_ She looked up slowly, and her yellow eyes nearly bugged out of her head. _"NYA!?"  
_  
"The... stall door..." choked Hermione, eyes wide. "When did...?"

 _CRASH.  
_  
There was no time for Mrs. Norris to bring her In Parenthesis back to protect her. It had happened to quickly; she'd noticed it too late. The stall door crashed over her, knocking her unconscious in one fell swoop. In Parenthesis immediately vanished, its owner not being able to use it.

Hermione gaped, her jaw touching the floor in pure shock.

"Well..." she said, uncertain whether that had just happened, "I guess... that's one way to get around that power...?"

For several moments, the injured girl just lay there painfully. Then, blinking away the surprise, she shook her head and grabbed her wand off the floor. Well, it was time to get all these guys to Madam Pomfrey...

Fifteen minutes later, Madam Pomfrey found herself woken up again by a sharp knock on the door. She blearily got up from one of the many beds around the infirmary, staggered over the floor to the door, and swung it open. "Who..." she started to say, then blinked as she registered Hermione in the doorway. Floating behind the girl were an unconscious Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, and Hermione held in her arms... Filch's cat, who had... something strange and fleshy sticking out of her head? All three of them seemed heavily injured, as if they'd gotten in some bizarre fight. The aging woman's gaze fell flat.

"So it has begun," she said solemnly, shaking her head as she let Miss Granger step into the infirmary without any questions. "You three better not make a habit out of this."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said with a sweatdrop. One way or another, she was just glad that whole In Parenthesis mess was over.

- **TO BE CONTINUED** -

 **Stand:** In Parenthesis (named for _In Parenthesis_ by David Jones, a war novel with major themes of betrayal)  
 **Stand user:** Mrs. Norris (retired)  
 **Ability:** Any attacks with the intent to injure that are done to either In Parenthesis or Mrs. Norris will instead shift to one of the attacker's nearby friends. If the attacker has no conscious friends nearby, the attacks will shift to the attacker instead.  
 **Stats:**

Destructive Power: varies  
Speed: C  
Precision: A  
Range: A  
Durability: B  
Developmental Potential: E


	10. Neville's Transformer, Part 1

**Chapter 9**  
 **Neville's Transformer, Part 1**

At the start-of-term banquet, Neville Longbottom had gotten the idea that the Slytherins disliked everything, going by the rather extreme amount of jeering they produced at the sight of anyone being Sorted into any other House. By the end of his first Potions lesson, Neville knew he'd been wrong. If their Head of House was anything to go by, they didn't dislike everything - they _hated_ everything.

That Friday morning, Professor Snape, a tall, pale, and dark-haired man, made quite the impression upon them all as he walked into the classroom amid the Gryffindors' and Slytherins' chatter. At the sound of him entering, everyone fell silent and watched him. He strolled stiffly up to a podium of sorts at the front of the room. He didn't seem unaware of the many stares he was earning himself from the Gryffindors, but he also seemed entirely unfazed by them. The Slytherins simply didn't care a whole lot, eyeing him with boredom.

Class started off normally, with Snape reading from the list of first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins who were attending his class. Nothing of interest happened until Snape's eyes fell upon a specific name on the list: Harry Potter.

"Harry Potter," Snape enunciated carefully. Neville, watching with a nervous sweat, noticed that when he said _Potter_ , Snape's frown twisted into a scowl. "Our new... _celebrity._ "

He said this as if he cared as much about celebrities as he did about mud on his shoe.

Neville kept his head down and didn't say anything, but inside, he was steaming. A glance at Harry, seated not too far from Neville himself, showed how nervous the boy was. Obviously he'd heard the same stories about Snape as everyone else. Neville was frankly shocked that with the sort of glower Snape was leveling Harry with, the Boy Who Lived wasn't wetting his trousers.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," Snape continued. Neville wasn't paying him as much attention as Harry, though. He watched the last Potter out of the corner of his eye. He seemed like a nice boy, and since they'd met on the train, Neville had wanted to be his friend. He'd been too nervous to ask, though. But Neville didn't like how Snape was treating Harry now; suddenly striking up a pop quiz and only accepting answers from the poor boy. It was too much to ask of anyone on their first Potions class, except perhaps Hermione, going by the way she seemed to be trying to touch the ceiling with her outstretched arm.

Then again, Hermione was Hermione, so her case was... a little _different_.

As Snape again demanded to know of Harry what the difference was between monkshood and wolfs... something, soft sounds caught Neville's ear. He turned to where Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sat, and his eyes widened. They were laughing silently in their seats, clutching their stomachs and heaving. And Snape wasn't even so much as batting an eye in their direction. Anger pooled deep down in Neville; how unfair was that? But he was too nervous to speak up about anything. What if he lost Gryffindor some House Points in the very first week? Neville's fist clenched. He wanted so badly to use _that_ to teach them a lesson, but...

Gran would kill him. Neville shuddered at the thought of her and her big, ridiculous hat dashing furiously up to him.

No, no, he'd keep his nose down.

"I don't know sir," Harry admitted at last to Snape, who scowled deeper. Somehow. "I think Hermione does, though. Why don't you try asking her?"

Quiet laughter bubbled up from a large number of the Gryffindors and even one or two Slytherins. Seamus Finnigan winked approvingly at the wizarding world's hero. A dirty look from Snape, however, shut them all up.

"Sit down," the man snapped at Hermione, who had been reaching up so eagerly that she'd actually risen from her seat. Chastised, the girl immediately plopped back down in her chair with a blush. Snape then rolled right into a lecture about where to find a bezoar, and how monkshood and wolfsbane were the same thing (which really confused Neville; why were they called different things, then?) and which ended with the entire class desperately scribbling notes on paper. He then split them up into groups to brew their first potions.

"Neville Longbottom," Snape said as he listed off names. He looked up from his sheet of students to peer at the suddenly stiffening young man. "Since you were paying about as much attention as young Mister Potter, you two shall be paired together. Maybe then you will actually learn to _learn_."

Neville paled. Uh-oh.

He walked stiffly over to Harry's table, where the raven-haired boy waved apologetically and held out his hand. "I know you from the train," Harry said with a soft smile. "Sorry I pulled you into this with me."

"I-I-It's my fault," Neville stammered softly, not looking Harry in the eyes. He held out a trembling hand, grasped, and shook Harry's, then quickly pulled it back. Harry blinked at that, but shrugged to himself and turned to the chalkboard.

"Let's see here, so we're supposed to be making a Boil-Curing Potion..."

They tried to get the potion right, but nothing seemed to be working properly. By the time Snape was busy congratulating Draco for the perfect hue of the boy's own potion, Harry's cauldron was starting to bubble a disturbing and dangerous-looking amount. Harry seemed to be catching on to this, too; as Snape swept angrily over to them, he pointed at the cauldron. Then, fast enough that Neville's eyes thought they might be deceiving him, the young Longbottom saw a flash of what looked like a yellow arm punch the surface of the cauldron. Then the arm was gone like it had never been there.

To Neville's surprise, the surface of the potion iced over.

The bubbling stopped. It couldn't really continue, since the weird, dark froth was now frozen.

Snape, now looming over them and frowning as he stared down at the potion, looked carefully at Harry. "A boil-curer shouldn't freeze like that," Snape intoned darkly. "You must've messed something up in a truly remarkable way."

Draco snickered. "Leave it to Potter to manage to freeze a hot potion," he chuckled, glaring at the boy in question. Neville's brow furrowed angrily at that. All morning - indeed, for the past couple days - Draco had seemed furious whenever he'd caught Harry's eye. Neville was watching carefully, and it seemed there was some sort of animosity between them. He hoped it didn't have anything to do with rule-breaking.

Either way, Neville's fists shook beneath his and Harry's table; his cheeks reddened with anger. Nothing could be done about Snape picking on Harry; the man was a professor, after all. But Snape _and_ Draco... that was too much. Harry had to be feeling like crap right now. Neville glanced at him. By the way the lightning-scarred boy's eyes flicked nervously around, he _was_ feeling like crap _._

"You may dump out the ice into the bin," Snape said carefully, pointing to a garbage bucket with a plastic bag in it, shoved against the side of the dungeon's wall. "But be careful. It may still be volatile, and we wouldn't want our... _celebrity_ going home with severe burns and one less limb."

The class stared as Harry followed the instructions with gritted teeth. Nearly an hour later, they were no closer to completing their potion which they had had to restart. Under his breath, Draco kept making snide remarks about Neville's poor skills that made poor Neville clench his teeth.

Finally, Draco's eyes turned to Crabbe just before the end of the period. "Can you believe Potter would screw up so badly that he and Longbottom couldn't even complete their first potion?" he sneered. "Just goes to show that fame isn't everything."

Neville's jaw set. Enough was enough.

" **[Transformer]** ," he whispered, pointing at Draco with his right arm. That familiar feeling washed over him, his arm gaining a metallic sheen as the ghost-like thing's arm surrounded it. It was round and had a scope, along with an extended part that revealed five holes.

The end-of-period bell rang, and Crabbe and Goyle, having cleaned up along with everyone else, immediately gathered up their belongings.

A soft, muffled crack echoed through the classroom as his arm flashed with light. Golden bullets flew through the air and struck into Draco's side, sinking in without making any wounds.

Crabbe and Goyle looked up at Draco, then blinked in confusion and glanced around the room.

"Did you see Draco leave?" Goyle asked Crabbe while looking.

"No. His bags are still here..."

"Guys, guys!?" Draco demanded, waving in front of their faces. Confusion was etched across his face. "I'm right here! Hello!?"

Crabbe and Goyle stared at each other.

They both shrugged. "He must've left early and forgotten his bags," they concluded, reaching down and grabbing Draco's bags. They both promptly left the dungeon without a second glance. Neville chuckled under his breath as Draco, panicking now, raced after them, shouting desperately for them to wait up.

Harry blinked. "Why are those two acting so weird, do you think?" he asked Neville, who startled and glanced at him in shock. "Draco's right there, after all. Weird..."

"I... I dunno what you're talking about," Neville stammered, twiddling his thumbs and quickly standing up. "I-I've gotta get my bags. See you, Harry."

Harry tilted his head. "See you. Huh..." he added once Neville was out of earshot. "Weird boy, him."

As Neville hurriedly gathered his belongings up and swept out of the Potions dungeon, he wiped sweat off his brow with a trembling fist. Could Harry see Draco? But as far as Neville had ever known, the only person who'd been able to see those hit by Transformer's bullets had been Neville himself...

Something bizarre was going on. That was for sure...

- **TO BE CONTINUED** -

 **Stand:** Transformer (based on _Transformer_ by M.A. Foster)  
 **Stand user:** Neville Longbottom  
 **Ability:** Anything shot by Transformer's arm cannon will be turned into a Stand and gain the properties thereof, with the exception of the struck object/person/spell gaining an extra ability. Only Stand users will be able to see or hear them; they will be able to interact with other Stands; damage inflicted upon them will also be inflicted upon Transformer's Stand user. A maximum of two objects/people/spells may be turned into a Stand, and anything may be turned into a Stand as long as it is not greater in size than an average room.  
 **Stats:**

Destructive Power: non-existent. When interacting with things pierced by its bullets, A.

Speed: E

Range: A+

Precision: A

Durability: C

Developmental Potential: D


End file.
